


Merry Christmas

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 14:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 27,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15536565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: 25 days of Christmas stories. All stories for thexmasfileschallenge.





	1. Warm Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: hot chocolate

Scully, her cheeks pinched red from the cold, brings with her a whoosh of icy fresh air as she enters the house. Mulder, bundled up, shudders in sympathy as he watches her peel herself out of her winter gear. Daggoo’s tiny paws pitter-patter over the floor and towards him. The dog’s tongue hangs out as he regards Mulder happily, his tail swinging joyfully about.

“Hey you,” Mulder greets him, petting his cold fur. His eyes wander back to Scully who curses under her breath as she tries to take off her boots. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” Comes the muffled answer. Once the boots are off she puts them neatly next to his. Mulder is mesmerized by the sight; her tiny shoes next to his when for so long they stood there by themselves, lonely and waiting.

“Cold outside?” He asks with a grin as Scully joins him on the couch. She doesn’t answer and puts her hand on his face. Mulder startles. “Scully, your hands!”

“Do you have any idea how cold it is outside, Mulder?” Her voice, along with her teeth, chatters.

“Do you know that gloves exist for a reason?”

“I’d hit you if my hands weren’t frozen.”

“Wait here a moment.” He kisses her nose quickly before he goes to the kitchen and takes the mug he prepared earlier out of the microwave. “I have a little something for you.” Mulder tells her walking slowly back into the living room. He holds out to the mug to her like an expensive gift.

“Hot chocolate,” Scully breathes out in what sounds like a prayer before she almost rips the mug out of his hands. She breathes in the strong chocolate aroma and Mulder thinks he can taste it from just watching her. Scully curls her hands around the mug, sighs contently, lets her eyes drift close.

“Good idea?” He asks, needing more this time than just the look on her face, even if it tells him all he needs to know. Scully opens her eyes and smiles at him.

“The best,” she assures him and motions for him to sit back down. Mulder watches her a moment longer and then puts his own hands over hers on the mug. They’re still cold but warming up. Their eyes meet and nothing about this should feel new; it’s a homecoming, a celebration of familiarity. But looking into her eyes, the sweet, rich aroma of chocolate between them, his skin tingling from her touch, Mulder could swear he falls in love with her again all over, all anew right this very moment.


	2. A Feeling of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second day: wreath. 
> 
> Revival fluff, sort of.

Mulder’s hand, the one that is not clinging to the paper bag holding his present, is poised to knock. If any of Scully’s neighbors were to open their door right now they might stop and wonder. Mulder, he is certain of it, looks frozen in time and place, an unwanted still picture here in this unfamiliar hallway. Her neighbors don’t know him, have never seen him; he doubts she ever mentioned him. To them, he is a stranger, a possible intruder. To Scully, he hopes, he is neither.

But he pauses, contemplates. His eyes are fixated on the perfectly crafted wreath that adorns her otherwise impersonal door. The joyous green clashes with the dark, massive grey that almost looks black. The paper bag rustles as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. It was a silly idea. Stupid, really. He should leave. Scully doesn’t know he’s here, she doesn’t expect him. There’s no discernible noise on the other side of the door. She might not even be home. Without him she has all the time in the world. She could be at church, out a café with friends or she could be out on a date. Mulder swallows hard. Scully wouldn’t go on a date on a Sunday morning, would she? Not the Scully he knows. Or knew. But the Scully he knew had also never left him. That Scully never packed her bags, told him she couldn’t do this any longer before left him and their house. 

His hand touches the wreath and he lets his fingers wander over a pinecone, over an artificial, dark red berry. It pains him to realize she’s used artificial greenery this year. He gathers his courage and finally knocks. It’s been years, a decade, since he’s last knocked waiting for her to open the door. 

“Mulder?” Scully is surprised to see him and he can’t tell if she considers it a good or a bad surprise.

“Hi. I know I should have called first but-”

“No, it’s fine.” It’s hard to tell if she means it. Mulder decides not to question it, not now, and instead hands her the paper bag awkwardly.

“I uhm, brought you a gift.” She glances down at the bag and then back at him. 

“Come on in, Mulder.” Scully steps aside and Mulder, for the first time, steps into the small space that Scully considers home these days. A few times after work she asked him if he wanted to see it, come with her. He always declined, unable to stomach the fact that when they spoke of home they both meant different places. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” Scully asks him setting the bag on the kitchen counter. 

“No, I can’t stay.” She turns to him, her expression unreadable. “I just wanted to drop this off. You don’t have to use it, but I wanted…” Mulder trails off, shrugging. A small smile plays around Scully’s lips as she gently takes out his gift. 

“Oh Mulder.” How often has she uttered these words. He knows every intonation of her voice, has heard his name spill from her lips in so many ways, and he knows this one, too. “You did this for me?” The room fills with the strong aroma of freshly cut greenery. Scully touches it, follows the contours of twig that stubbornly sticks out. 

“It’s cedar and fir,” Mulder clears his throat, “Your mother told me once that you can use just about anything green but make sure it’s evergreen. I know… you and your mom used to make the wreaths together. I still have the one she made for me last year.” He has to clear his throat again and he observes Scully. Her eyes fill with tears but the smile on her lips lets him know she wants to hear this. 

“I know this is your first Christmas without her and I- I guess this is my way of honoring her. I should have known you already had a wreath.”

“I bought it, Mulder,” Scully admits, her voice heavy. “But you… this is beautiful, Mulder. My mom would love it. I love it. Let’s put it up on the door.”

“Scully, you don’t have to do that,” Mulder tells her as she walks past him, her hand softly touching his arm in passing. 

“But I want to, Mulder. Make this place feel a bit more like home.” Mulder bites his lip as he watches her take off the artificial wreath. How badly does he want to remind her that there’s another house, another place that’s just waiting for her to come back. But he’ll wait. This, he figures, is a start. 

“Now I’ll always have a piece of you here with me, Mulder,” Scully whispers before she gently, almost tentatively, kisses his cheek.


	3. His Father’s Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William finds his dad’s sweater and refuses to take it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: sweater

“William,” Scully calls from the living room, straightening her clothes, impatience seeping into her every movement, “honey, please hurry up,” she adds staring at the boy’s slightly ajar bedroom door. A few weeks ago he informed her that he, at almost five years old, was no longer a baby. He was a big boy and he didn’t need his mother helping him get dressed. Today, as a compromise, she chose his clothes. She is certain that this is why he is taking so long. Today of all days when they don’t have the time. It was her mother’s idea to go to church together on First Advent Sunday to ring in the Christmas season. With Bill, Tara and Matthew in town, there really was no way she could say no. As much as she wanted to. Waiting for her son to emerge, she curses Mulder under her breath for having to deal with all of this on her own. She can imagine Bill’s face already; sees the disdain on his face, hears the snide in his remarks.

“William,” she tries again. She’ll give him another two minutes, she decides, taking his winter boots out of the closet. When she turns around, boots in hand, her breath catches in her throat. There in the doorway stands William. Instead of the clothes she put put out for him, though, he is wearing a sweater several sizes too big for him. It’s Mulder’s. The seam almost reaches the floor, his arms are lost inside and Wiliam, her precious boy, shows her a huge baby teeth grin.

“I’m done,” he professes proudly.

“You can’t wear this, baby,” Scully, her own aching heart cracking, tells him. Tears rush to her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. William’s grin vanishes as if in slow motion. That look of contemplation, of trying to figure out the world, is her own. That look, Mulder told her once with a soft kiss on her cheek and a gleeful smile around his lips, was all her.

“Want to wear this.” William’s voice is small, yet full of determination. “It’s daddy’s sweater.”

“I know, baby.” Scully touches him, feels the soft wool under her skin and her son’s steady heartbeat. “Why aren’t you wearing your own sweater? This one’s a bit too big for you.”

“Daddy is tall.” Is his answer. He uses the sleeve to wipe away his silent tears.

“He is,” Scully agrees. Each word is a struggle; the tears are demanding, her throat constricted. “I know you miss him, honey. I miss him too.” What an understatement. Every skin cell screams in absence of his touch; her world is lacking colors, her laugh is missing its brilliance. Without him here she is half a person. The pieces he left her with held together by the love of their child.

“Want to wear this, mommy,” William sobs. Scully is no longer able to hold her own tears in and they mingle with William’s as she takes his small body into her arms. She doesn’t know if she imagines it, doesn’t even care, but she swears the sweater smells like Mulder.

“He’ll be home soon, William,” Scully promises her son, repeating Mulder’s own words. That was three weeks ago. Three long weeks that have felt like forever.

“How many sleeps is soon?” He buries his hot, wet face against her neck as Scully contemplates her answer. How can she explain it to him? How can she make him understand when she herself doesn’t? I need to know, Mulder told her the night he left, zipping up his old overnight bag as if this was still his life. Need to know what happened to me, what happened to you, and make sure it’ll never happen to our son. His voice calm, his eyes steady as he kissed her goodbye. She doesn’t want to lie to her son; she can’t. She puts her hands on his cheeks and wipes away a few stray tears.

“I don’t know, baby. I wish I could tell you. All I know is that your daddy will be back with us as soon as possible. You can’t wear daddy’s sweater to church, but how about you put it back on when we get home?” His eyes light up and he nods. “Let me help you.” Scully grabs the seam and peels William out of the garment. The fabric catches on his hair and makes it stand up. William giggles and Scully does, too. She smoothes down his stubborn strands that look so much like Mulder’s.

“Daddy will be home for Christmas.” It’s not a question this time; William glances at her, doesn’t even expect her to answer him. It’s his own truth that he clings to. His father’s son, she realizes, who just like him just wants to believe. Looking into William’s eyes, the same color as Mulder’s, she decides she will do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are sequels! Snow Globe: Tiny and Wrapping Paper: Home For Christmas


	4. Let it Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: snow

As a young girl, Scully had loved snow. Growing up in San Diego and other navy bases that saw little to no snow, she had reveled in it whenever she had the chance. She had learned about snowflakes, about their uniqueness. Her first winter on the east coast, a nasty, bitterly cold and dark season, she’d walked through the new, freshly fallen snow listening to every crunch under her feet, reveling in the unknown feeling of it. Melissa, a loud smile on her face, had persuaded her little sister to catch the snowflakes, take them with them. Though Scully had known it was impossible, the ice melting on her fingers and on her tongue when she’d dared to catch them that way, a few first illicit kisses, she had never stopped trying. As the years went by and she grew older, the novelty wore off, but she never lost her love for it. Until Antarctica.

Scully shivered the moment she noticed the orange gleam in the sky and the way the clouds hung heavy in the sky. The cold seeped through her tightly buttoned winter coat, slashed against her skin as Mulder stopped for gas and she decided to stretch her legs. Home, she marveled, staring at the sky with longing, was far, far away. 

“We should hurry,” Mulder told her as he walked back to their car handing her a chocolate bar she hadn’t asked for (but badly wanted), “there’s a snowstorm coming.” Just what we need, she thought, biting into the soft, sweet chocolate just as the first few snowflakes started to fall, covering their hair and coats.

Two hours later, their windshield wipers raced back and forth in an attempt to free the windshield of the relentlessly falling snow. It was no use.

“Mulder.” Scully’s voice was as tense as Mulder looked. He merely nodded in agreement. They needed to find shelter and soon. The snow made it difficult to see anything outside but a few minutes later Scully thought she saw colorful, blinking lights. She hoped it was a hotel. Right now it didn’t matter how sleazy it was. They just needed to get off the road. Mulder set the blinker and parked their car. 

“A B&B,” he said, surprised. Neither of them was looking forward to getting out of the car. They shared a look, a nod and then got out at the same time. Mulder could have run ahead, but he took her hand instead, helped her balance herself in the deep snow. Definitely not the right weather to be wearing high heels, she thought as the cold wetness engulfed her ankles.

“Should I carry you?” Mulder joked but they just kept going until finally, they stepped through the heavy door. Warm, vanilla-scented air hit their faces as the door fell close behind them.

“Welcome,” an old lady sitting behind the counter greeted them, waving them over. “You poor souls. The weather is bad outside, isn’t it? How can I help you?”

“Do you have two rooms for the night?” Mulder asked her shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the snow. The lady pushed a plate full of cookies towards them and Scully couldn’t help but notice the look of disappointment on the woman’s face.

“No, my dear. All we’ve got left is one room,” she regarded them curiously, touching her glasses, “you know, I may be old, but I am not old-fashioned. You two lovebirds share the room.” She winked at them.

“We’re not-” Mulder started, but Scully put her hand on his arm. Better one room than none at all, she told him with her eyes. She’d rather share a bed with him than die on the road together just because they tried clinging to an irrational sense of professionalism. 

“We need to get our things from the car,” Scully finished when the old lady threw them a confused look. 

“I’ll get them,” Mulder offered and disappeared back into the cold. 

“Have a cookie, dear.” Scully wanted to politely decline, but the huge eyes were glaring at her, waiting and expecting so she took one and bit into it. She tasted hints of vanilla and honey and wondered if she should eat another one when Mulder returned with their overnight bags.

“I’ll show you your room. My name is Clara, by the way." 

"The kitchen is closed for the night, but I could maybe fix you something simple.”

“No, thank you,” Mulder said and Scully nodded, too, “we already ate. We’re probably just going to take a shower and go to bed.” A moment later Mulder’s face was as red as the room’s drapes. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he added looking at Scully as a way of apologizing. She couldn’t hide her small smile.

“You two are adorable,” Clara snickered. “I will be going home now,” at Mulder’ shocked glance she let out a laugh and took his hand as if he were a small boy, “it’s right next to this house, silly. I’ve been living here longer than you are alive. I hope you enjoy your stay. If you’re not too tired,” another wink from her and now both Mulder and Scully’s complexion matched the drapes, “there is a fireplace downstairs and a piano. Just make yourself feel at home.” With that she left them alone. 

“A fireplace,” Mulder grinned as he tested the mattress. It was a King size and Scully breathed a sigh of relief. “Wanna check it out, Scully?”

“I need to change out of these clothes first and then I’m all yours.” Mulder turned to her and Scully blushed even more. It must be this place, she thought, before she took her overnight bag into the bathroom.

“Ready to go, Mulder?” Scully asked 15 minutes later freshly showered and wearing comfortable clothes. Mulder, dressed in jeans and a shirt himself, looked her up and down, swallowed hard, and then nodded.

“We should call Skinner,” Scully wondered out loud as they left their room, “tell him we didn’t make our flight.”

“How about we deal with that tomorrow?" Mulder asked. "Let’s just… this is a nice place, isn’t it?” His eyes found hers and they were as warm as everything else in this cozy, dreamy place. He waited for her reaction so she nodded.

“Let’s just enjoy this. Let’s not think about Skinner or work. I just want to… spend this evening with you. How does that sound?” Scully grabbed his hand and stared deep into his eyes. Mulder’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed uncertain about her intentions. “Scully?” He asked carefully.

“Mulder, what song did I sing to you when you got us lost in that forest during the mothman case?” His eyes grew wide.

“First of all, it was not my fault,” Scully gave him an eyebrow, waiting, “and second of all, is this a quiz? I’m an excellent student, Scully. You were singing Joy to the World.”

“Good.” But she didn’t let go of his hand as they continued to walk.

“Why did you ask?”

“I wanted to make sure it’s really you this time.”

The lounge was aflame with the crackling light from the small fireplace. Scully felt the heat surround her; she swore she could taste it. She was still holding Mulder’s hand as she walked inside. The room was decorated in soft, gentle colors; red mingled with green, a few touches of pink and violet gave it its own flavor. There was a fluffy sofa in front of the fireplace and it reminded Scully of when she’d almost done something like this with Mulder before. Only he hadn’t been Mulder. She shuddered with the memory, adamant about making new ones tonight. Through the window she saw the snow falling still. She smiled feeling safe inside this house. 

“I wish I knew how to play,” Scully said as she let her fingers wander of the glittering blackness of the piano.

“I do.” Surprised by his admission, she let go of his hand.

“You do?” Mulder nodded and sat down on the small bench. Scully watched as he opened the lid and his fingers settled on the keys, not yet pressing down. 

“Why haven’t you told me?" 

"It never came up.” He shrugged. “I haven’t played in ages. Ever since…” He pressed down on a key, a deep, angry tone. Scully filled the gap herself; ever since Samantha had disappeared. She pushed at Mulder and he scooted over so they could share the space. It was a tight fit and their thighs were pressed together, but it was comfortable. Scully stared at his beautiful long, lean fingers. She should have known. 

“Did you want to play the piano?”

“Oh no. It was my mom’s idea. She made me take lessons after Samantha was born. I hated it. I mostly played for Samantha and when she was no longer there… I just stopped. My parents never said anything." 

"I’m so sorry, Mulder.” He shook it off, smiled as he lost himself in a memory.

“Her favorite was Für Elise. I played it so often for her that she started calling it Für Samantha. I never liked it, but I loved playing it for her. She never had the patience to learn to play herself.” He pressed a few keys and Scully recognized Beethoven’s famous composition.

“Do you have a favorite, Scully?” Mulder directed his eyes at her. Her heart went out to him, to the boy who lost his sister, to the man who seemed lost himself. Without thinking about it, she touched his cheek, felt the first tingles of his stubble, but mostly his warmth.

“What’s your favorite, Mulder?” She whispered. He just stared at her as if her eyes contained the notes for a piece he was just learning how to play. His eyes still on her, his fingers began to dance over the keys. Soft, familiar sounds filled the room, but Scully couldn’t tell what it was, not when Mulder was looking at her like that.

“Beethoven’s moonlight sonata. Samantha thought it was too sad and she always fled the room when I played it. But it reminds me of you. Well, us.”

“Us? You think we’re sad?” He smiled at her and missed a note. 

“No,” he told her, his eyes following the movement of his hands, “but it’s powerful. There are no words to describe it. Yes, there is a sense of sadness, but listen,” he played on effortlessly as if he’d done nothing else these last few years, “it’s almost like a dream. To me it always sounded as if someone lost was being found again. That’s why it reminds me of us.” Scully let the music carry her away, felt every note settle on her heart and soul much like the snow settled on the ground outside. She put her hand on Mulder’s and the music ebbed away. He gave her a lopsided grin looking younger and more carefree than she’d ever known him. 

“We did find each other,” Scully whispered before her lips found his. She was reminded of the girl she used to be trying to catch snowflakes in her mouth. They’d always melted away. As Mulder’s mouth opened under hers and she got her first real taste of him, she knew she’d found what she’d always been looking for.


	5. Tinsel Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: tinsel

It’s become yet another routine. Mulder, as soon as he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, reaches over to her side of the bed. Check if she’s there. Today, he finds nothing but a cool emptiness. Sighing, he opens his eyes. Her pillow is neatly fluffed up, the sheets just as neatly tucked in. No hint she’s been here ever.

Mulder gets up and his bones creak and moan. He rubs his eyes as he walks into the bathroom hoping to see any sign that Scully has indeed been here last night. Nothing. Looking at himself in the mirror, he wonders if he’s just dreamed her. He touches his lips, is certain her taste is still there. He looks at his hands, feels his skin tingle in the memory of her skin. Couldn’t have been a dream. Or could it? 

As he prepares to shave, he hears Daggoo whining in front of the bedroom door. Mulder goes to open it and lets the dog in. He bypasses Mulder with a wag of his tail before he gets comfortable on the bed. 

“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to sleep in there.” The dog stares at him blankly. “You’re right,” he tells him walking back into the bathroom to shave, “It’s a stupid rule. You better remember that I didn’t come up with it. I let you sleep in the bed.” It was of course one of Scully’s rules. When she dropped Daggoo off at the house months ago, she brought too many toys, an insanely large blanket the dog doesn’t even look at and a book of rules. One of which is the no paws on the bed rule. He read through the list with way too many rules, way too many idiosyncrasies, and told her he had a rule for her too: she’d have to come visit. In their one step forward, half a step backward dance this was a big step. Scully blushed, nodded, petted the dog and left the house. But Scully, never one to break the rules, came by every weekend. The first few times she insisted on driving back into the city. Until one Friday night when she turned to him half-asleep asking if she could stay. Mulder nodded mutely and watched her walk upstairs to their bedroom. A few moments later he followed her as if in trance. That one night turned into every weekend. Neither talks about these nights; the implications of what it might mean for them and their relationship too heavy, their hearts still too fragile. 

But Mulder knows exactly what he wants. Which is why he’s come up with a plan. Ever since he’s known her, Scully has loved Christmas time. All of it. He remembers going to her apartment back in the day being greeted by handmade wreaths. The inside was always decorated with tinsel garlands and trinkets. She’d insist on Christmas music whenever they were in the car and sometimes even in the office. Even while they were on the run, she always managed to find some Christmas decoration to make whatever hotel room they called their home look festive. Mulder has not been to her new apartment in the city and they don’t talk about that place so he doesn’t know if she’s decorated it at all. It doesn’t matter either way. His plan, and he is stupidly proud of it, is to make this house, their home, look like Christmas has moved in. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll make her see what she’s missing out on. If not, at the very least, it will make her smile. 

Daggoo follows him downstairs once he’s dressed. Mulder grins as he walks down the stairs. The living room is blinking colorfully at him. There’s light everywhere. His electricity bill will be hell, he knows it, but he couldn’t care less. He flicks a switch and a dancing Santa starts singing Merry Christmas. If only Scully were here to see it. 

“I didn’t dream her, did I?” He asks Daggoo. The dog blinks, tilts his head. “No, I didn’t dream it. She was here last night –Thursday. Breaking her own rules, right, boy?” The dog, once again, doesn’t react. “So, Daggoo, what do you say? This room needs some more tinsel, I think. What do you think? Where did I put the tinsel?” He is certain he put it into the basket right by the tree. The basket is still there but the tinsel is not. 

“I know I put it there,” Mulder mumbles and turns around. His eyes land on Daggoo. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. “Daggoo, come here boy.” The dog obeys, softly wags his tail. Mulder opens the dog’s muzzle and his heart skips a beat. He reaches inside and takes out a stray strand of tinsel.

“You ate the tinsel!” Quickly, Mulder gathers the dog in his arms. A vet. There has to be a vet close by. He puts Daggoo down again and dons his coat, checks for his phone and his wallet, his car keys. Right. He doesn’t have car keys. Scully has the car. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he presses a few buttons on his phone. “Pick up, Scully. Pick up.” She doesn’t. Mulder looks at the dog; Daggoo is ready to fall asleep and Mulder has no idea whether that’s a good idea or not. Probably not. Google tells him that the closest vet is only three miles away. Another glance at Daggoo and Mulder decides he can’t wait. He picks up the dog and then he is out the door.

Holding Daggoo with one arm, he presses the phone to his ear and calls Scully. The cold wind bites into his skin and makes his eyes water.

“Hey Scully, it’s me… I have bad news. Wait, no. That’s not how I want to start this. I have news. Or not even that,” he catches his breath, no longer used to talking while he’s in haste, “I’m on my way to the vet. Daggoo… he… he… I’m on my way to the vet. I just wanted to tell you. I’m sorry, Scully. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. When do I ever, right? The tinsel. The tinsel I bought for the house… he ate it. All of it. I’m so sorry, Scully. I’m taking him to the vet.” His throat burns and he hangs up. No goodbye necessary. If something happens to the dog, she’ll never forgive him. He’ll never forgive himself. “You hang on, Daggoo,” he whispers into the dog’s warm fur before he starts running. 

When Mulder finally reaches the street, he has no idea how much time has passed. He slows his steps, has to, and clings to Daggoo who is looking up at him with a curious look.

“Mulder!” At first he’s convinced he’s imagining Scully’s voice. There’s no way she can be here. But she’s walking towards him and Daggoo, recognizing her, turns impatient in his arms.

“Scully? How are you here? Did you get my message?” His voice is hoarse, his arms heavy. Scully strokes Daggoo’s head and the dog leans towards her, tries to lick her hand.

“I did. Mulder, Daggoo didn’t eat the tinsel.”

“What? He must have. It was gone this morning.”

“He didn’t eat it, Mulder. I took it.”

“What?

"I thought you didn’t need it anymore. Mulder, every inch of our house is covered in Christmas decorations already if you haven’t noticed. I wanted to use the tinsel to bring some festiveness to our office.” But he barely hears her last words.

“Our house.”

“What?”

“You said our house just now. That’s what you said, Scully.”

“Well, it is. Isn’t it?” Instead of at him, she’s looking at Daggoo. The dog, tired from being carried and jostled around, is finally giving in to sleep.

“Yes, it is,” Mulder agrees. “So I ran three miles for nothing. Daggoo didn’t eat any tinsel and there is no reason to take him to the vet.” Scully nods and laughs softly. Then, her hand still on the dog, she gets on tiptoes and kisses his cold lips. Mulder sighs against her, smiles.

“Let’s go home, Mulder. I think you need a warm shower. I think I might too.” He can’t argue with that.

“Hey Scully?” She looks at him. “Last night… I didn’t dream what happened last night, did I? I didn’t dream that we… you were there, right?”

“Of course I was there, Mulder. Where else would I have been?” Damn right, he thinks with a smile as he gets in the car to go home.


	6. Tiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: snow globe  
> Sequel to "His Father's Son"

“No, mommy, no!” William stomps his feet. He’s standing in front of her, his face red as big, angry tears roll down his cheeks.

“William, we can’t just tell grandma we’re not coming for Christmas.” Of course William would have a meltdown the night before Christmas Eve. She should have known. She should have seen it coming. She crouches down and her knees protest. She reaches for William, but he flinches away from her touch.

“We can’t leave, mommy,” he sobs loudly, “Daddy doesn’t know! We have to be home when daddy comes back.” His cries tear through her soul and make room for her own hurt. This time when she reaches for him, William comes willingly into her arms. He’s crying harder against her, the pain rattling his small body. As she holds him, strokes his back, she tries to keep her own tears at bay.

“Your daddy knows where grandma lives, baby,” she whispers into his damp hair and straightens a stubborn curl, “He knows we’ll be there.” She crushes his small body against hers praying that her love for him makes up for Mulder’s absence. She’s tried. Ever since he left, she’s done nothing but try. Try to keep William’s belief in his father intact. He loves his son, and her, and that’s why he left them in the first place. She’s tried to believe that, too. The longer he’s gone, though, the less she believes. She hasn’t heard from him in over three weeks. It’s time, she thinks; time to stop.

“William, your daddy…” The words get stuck in her throat. She can’t do this. She can’t shatter her son’s hopes, take all of this away from him. For the past two weeks, every night, he would sit in front of his window, stare out, waiting and hoping. At first Scully thought he was waiting for snow. He shook his head when she asked him about it. ‘Waiting for daddy’, he told her, the ghost of his father’s smile playing around his lips. 

“He will be home for Christmas,” William, defiance in his voice, sobs against her shoulder.

“How about a compromise?” The boy loosens his grip and blinks at her needing an explanation. “Remember how I said you could wear daddy’s sweater at home but not at church?” William nods. “That was a compromise. You know, grandma is really looking forward to seeing us tomorrow and so are your cousins, your aunts and uncles. We’ll leave a note for your dad, all right? So if he’s late and we’re already on our way, he’ll know where to find us. What do you say?” He thinks about it a moment. Uses the sleeve of Mulder’s sweater that he’s barely taken off for weeks to wipe at his red-rimmed eyes. A shaky sigh through his sniffling nose and he finally nods. Scully kisses his warm, sweet smelling skin. Another crisis diverted. She’s not sure how many more she can take. This, she knows, is only the beginning. What will she do, what will she say, when Mulder doesn’t return? Not for Christmas. Not at all.

“Time for bed now, young man.” Scully finds her voice again, as strange as it sounds in her own ears, and just this once William doesn’t complain. He pads into his bedroom and Scully follows him. He grabs the snow globe Scully had to buy for him the other day and crawls on the windowsill. This time Scully joins him. Together they stare outside where the streetlamps throw yellow and orange light cones onto the pavement. William, not taking his eyes off the window, absent-mindedly shakes the snow globe. Scully watches the tiny flakes swirl around the glass and settle peacefully on the ground. William persuaded her to buy when they were out buying Christmas presents for the rest of the family. The day had been, like all of them lately, stressful. William kept asking her if he could have it and she should have told him no, should have told him Christmas was coming, but she didn’t. She told him yes, paid for it, and reveled in the pure joy she found on her son’s face. She never once looked at the snow globe. She does now. As the last flakes fall down, she takes in the simple scenery. A house, unremarkable, a dog and a boy. And there, a few steps away, in each other’s arms, are two people, the parents, just watching. Tears cloud Scully’s eyes as she stares at the tiny still life in her son’s hand.

“Don’t be sad, mommy,” William tells her, jolting her back to this life, the real one, “Daddy will be here. He will come home.”

After William falls asleep, Scully wraps the last of his presents. She checks on him one last time, makes sure he is fast asleep, before she grabs her keys and takes the bags full of gifts to her car. The trunk of her car is jammed once again; it’s been happening a lot lately and it gets worse with the cold. She makes another mental note to have it checked as soon as this crazy season is over. She groans as it refuses to open. The cold is gnawing at her skin and her cold hands sting as she pushes at the metal.

“Do you need any help?” His voice is a rush of warm air against her body. She whirls around feeling dizzy and there he is. She hasn’t imagined what it would be like when he came back. Part of her convinced that he never would. Now there he is. His hands deeply pushed into his pockets, his head tilted slightly he looks almost shy, uncertain if he’s still wanted here.

“Scully, it’s me.” But she can’t find her voice; words fail to come to her. She stares at him, not believing. She’s never been a believer. “It’s me,” he repeats with a lifetime of memories shimmering in his eyes.

“It’s you. Mulder…” But that’s all she can say before she finds herself in his arms. He is warm, he is solid; he is every piece of her that’s been missing these last few weeks. “You’re here. It’s you.” 

“It’s me and I’m never leaving again. This is it, Scully.” She brings distance between them and feels cold air slash at her. She shivers glancing up at him.

“What did you find?” He shakes his head.

“Nothing, Scully. There is nothing to be found. This… all of this is no longer my life. You are. You and William. Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Mulder…”

“You don’t believe me,” he says, nods, “I don’t blame you. I will do everything in my power to earn back your trust and your love. This was the last time, Scully. I promise you. I’ll show you.”

“I don’t want you to-” Scully starts and Mulder puts his finger against her lips. A tiny spark that sets off a whole firework inside of her.

“My life is here, Scully. Wherever you and William are is where I’m supposed to be.” One of his hands leaves her body and reaches into his coat pocket. He takes out a small snow globe and hands it to Scully. “It’s funny how epiphanies come about. I went into a shop to buy sunflower seeds. That’s all I wanted but there was this family. You know, a mom, a dad and two little girls. One was crying and the other one snuck away to look at these snow globes on display. She must have heard a noise or startled and the globe slipped from her hands and broke. I wanted to go over to her and console her, but I stopped. That wasn’t my daughter. I didn’t know her at all. Instead I watched her parents come over and comfort her. Once they were gone, I picked up one of these snow globes myself. It’s silly, I know that, Scully, but look at this,” he touches her hand that’s holding the globe and shakes it gently, “I saw us. A house, a kid and a dog. I realized that was all I wanted. I no longer cared for anything but coming home to you and to William.”

“This is crazy,” Scully whispers staring at the toy much like she did earlier. She’s seen the exact same picture in William’s snow globe. The same house, the dog and the boy with the snowman, and the parents. It’s all there. She shakes it again but the image remains.

“I know it’s crazy, but-” Scully doesn’t let him finish. She kisses him, tries to kiss away the weeks without him, the pain and the anger.

“Welcome home, Mulder,” she whispers against his lips before she leads him inside.


	7. Silent Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: lights

Something wakes her; a noise, maybe. Scully opens her eyes, stretches. The other side of the bed is obviously slept in, but now empty. She gets up and the heaviness in her bones makes her think she hasn’t been asleep long. The bedside clock with its neon lettering confirms it: 1.07 am. Scully listens carefully, checks the baby monitor. Whatever noise woke her up, it wasn’t her son. She dons her robe and pads barefoot out of the bedroom. Soft light greets her and she follows it as a familiar murmuring voice gets louder in her ear, beckoning her forward. The lights on the Christmas tree dip the room in a colorful, mellow glow. But it’s not the beauty of the lights that drives tears to her eyes; it’s Mulder and William.

Mulder is on his back, sprawled on the floor just below the tree with William. The boy’s tiny mouth forms an O as he reaches into the air trying to touch the dancing colors he sees. Scully walks closer careful not to disturb father and son. Mulder is talking, explaining the world and its many wonders.

“But mommy knows these things better, baby boy,” he says and winks at her. “Want to join us, Scully?” She nods and lies down next to her boys. William turns his head and grins at her, spit running from his mouth. She wipes it away with the sleeve of her robe. He babbles excitedly, pointing up at the lights.

“He loves it,” Scully whispers. Of course he does. When Scully took the Christmas lights out of the box earlier Mulder just huffed. Called her simple warm mini string lights boring. This is William’s first Christmas, he reminded her, as he haphazardly flung string lights in all colors of the rainbow on the tree like a crazy artist. Now she sees that he was right. 

“I thought seeing the lights might make him fall asleep but no such luck. He’s fed, he’s dry, but he just doesn’t want to sleep.” Mulder kisses the boy’s temple.

“Hm, I wonder who he gets that from.” They both chuckle. “Have you tried telling him a story, Mulder? Those can be rather, you know.” He throws her a look challenging her to say the words.

“Can be what, Scully?”

“Boring.” But she grins at him.

“Mommy thinks she’s really funny, Will.”

“Mulder, he really needs to sleep. So do we. Tomorrow is going to be exhausting enough as it is.” Her mother had decided that William’s first Christmas should be a family affair. Both Bill and Charlie would be there as well as other assorted family members. Mulder nods and puts his hand on William’s stomach. He takes a deep breath.

“Silent night,” Mulder begins singing, his voice deep and rich, “holy night.” William turns his head to stare at his father. Between them, Mulder is responsible for lullabies. She never tells him this, but she loves hearing him sing. She puts her head next to William’s and breathes in his warm, sweet baby smell.

“All is calm, all is bright,” Mulder points at the lights, but William’s eyes are fixated on his father’s face. Before he goes on, Mulder covers Will’s ears, “‘round young virgin mother and child.” Scully rolls her eyes as Mulder grins at her.

“Holy infant so tender and mild - that’s you, Will - sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.” William blinks a few times and his eyes grow heavy. He yawns and stares up at Mulder as if he’s hung the moon. She knows that feeling well, she thinks, as she takes her son’s tiny hand in hers, gently stroking his silky skin with her thumb.

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright,” Mulder repeats in a gentle voice as they both watch William struggle to stay awake, “Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.”

“I wish we could sleep here,” Scully admits in a whisper.

“What’s stopping us? Will looks comfy.”

“Mulder, we’re not teenagers anymore. We can’t sleep on the floor.”

“Watch me.” He grins and raises an eyebrow at her, a definite challenge. She shakes her head then laughs.

“We’ll be cold.”

“No, we won’t be.” Carefully so that William doesn’t wake Mulder gets up to bring over the two Christmas blankets Scully draped over the couch. He covers her with one and leans down to give her a quick, loving kiss. Then he settles down and covers William and himself. The baby sighs in his sleep.

Mulder’s hand sneaks out from under the blanket and he holds it out to Scully. She takes it and laces their fingers together. She doesn’t break their eye contact until she feels herself slipping away, joining their son in sleep.


	8. Green Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Millenium” post-ep: Mulder has a rather original idea for a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: evergreen

The new year has barely opened its eyes when Scully finds herself on the road with Mulder, again. A year ago, or a lifetime maybe, she asked him if he ever wanted to get out of the car. She wanted to; at least in that moment. Then, last night, instead of getting out of it, she secured herself a space in his passenger seat. For life, she thinks. Scully glances over at Mulder who is driving one-armed, a secretive smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. As young as the year might be, this newest incarnation of their relationship is even younger. One chaste kiss in a hospital, a more pressing one when Scully helped Mulder into the car and then a full-blown make out session at his apartment. That was before… before. Heat shoots into her cheeks as she remembers what happened after. Twice. 

There was no awkwardness this morning. Just more kisses. So many more. Gentle touches, fingers that mapped out new territory, marked spots that had to be revisited later, and often. Scully chances another look at Mulder. Still smiling. She wonders if he thinks about the change in their relationship too. About what all of this means.

“Scully, it’s really hard to concentrate on the road if you stare at me like that." 

"I was just thinking,” she sighs. Last night Mulder told her, whispered against her ear, his breath hot and wet against her skin, that she should stop. Stop thinking, Scully. Stop fighting it. Stop hiding from me. She blushes again and presses her hands against her cheeks. She hears Mulder chuckle and she turns to him.

“I want you to come with me to my mom’s later today,” Scully blurts out. She meant to ease herself, and him, into it. Now it’s out there sitting between them like a petulant child. 

“If you don’t have any plans,” she adds when Mulder remains quiet and the silence stretches on. 

“No,” Scully starts squirming; she should have waited, should given them both more space. And time. She is not the one to jump in without a moment of consideration. That’s Mulder. “No, I don’t have plans.” It takes her a few seconds to hear his words, and not just the heaviness in his voice.

“Forget it, Mulder. I was just - I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yes, you should have. I want to come with you. I was just surprised. It took us seven years to get here and I thought…”

“That it would take another seven until I took you home to my mother?”

“Maybe not that long but essentially… yeah.”

“You don’t-”

“Scully, I want to. I really want to. I’d show you just how much I want to if I didn’t need my one good arm to steer us.” Scully chuckles, a weight falling off her shoulders, another off her heart. She puts her hand on his thigh, needing to touch him, to feel him. 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going? Or is it a surprise?" 

"A tree nursery.”

“Mulder." 

"I’m serious.”

“Why are we going to a tree nursery on New Year’s Day?”

“Now that is a surprise." 

* 

The tree nursery is pleasantly deserted; just a few people here and there, a family. Outside the city where it’s turned into sludge, the land here is still covered with soft, white snow. It crunches under their feet as they make their way inside. Mulder takes her hand in his without hesitation when he realizes she’s forgotten her gloves. Holding hands in public like a normal couple is a strange sensation. She finds herself looking around, searching for onlookers, for people to judge them. The few who are there, though, pay them no mind. They don’t know them, have no idea they’re Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI, partners, friends and something a little bit more. No one knows, no one cares.

Mulder leads her past trees and plants to go inside a small glasshouse. It smells green like earth and life, and in spite of the warmth his hand remains around hers. 

"Mulder, why are we here?” She fully expects him to tell her about a case involving scientifically altered plants that go on murder sprees or something equally crazy. They’re standing in front of a section labeled indoor. Clearly they’re not here to buy a plant? She thinks glancing at Mulder. But he’s licking his lip, his tongue sticking out briefly, his hand squeezing hers in a nervous rhythm. Scully doubts he notices any of it. She tugs at his hand to bring him back to her.

“I was thinking, too,” he starts and looks at her as if that was enough information, “this morning when you were still asleep. I was thinking about what it means. I was wondering how I could show you just… what it, you and me, means to me." 

"That is lovely, Mulder, but I don’t see the connection to this tree nursery.” He nods and drags her over to a display. 

“Snake plant,” Scully reads, then turns to Mulder with raised eyebrows.

“I wanted to get you something. To, you know.” She doesn’t know and she is certain that her face reflects just that. “To show you what you mean to me. What this relationship means to me.” Mulder points at one of the snake plant.

“This made you think of me? Of us?" 

"My first thought was Lucky Bamboo, actually. Because I felt so lucky.” He brings her hand to his lips, kisses her knuckles. “Then I realized that as a beautiful as Lucky Bamboos are, they don’t live long. They’re really difficult to keep alive. Unlike the snake plant. Did you know that snake plants will forgive you just about anything? They don’t care how much light they’re getting and won’t hold it against you when you forget to water them. They’re evergreen. They endure. They’re strong, Scully. Hard to kill. You see where I’m going with this?”

“How do you know so much about plants, Mulder?”

“That’s not… I kept thinking what I could get you to commemorate this, us. I didn’t want to be presumptuous and,” he looks away and clears his throat; Scully feels sweat break out on her forehead as she fills the gaps, hears what he’s not saying, “but I wanted it to be something. So instead of that other… thing, I want you to have this plant, Scully.”

“Mulder, that is so…” She looks at him. His expression is full of giddy hope. Scully wishes she’d been awake; did he watch her while she slept? Thought about how long it took them to get there? Did he have any regrets? Even for just a moment. His mind, she thinks, is a funny, wondrous place. And she loves it. She loves him. She is not ready to tell him, even if they’re about to get a plant together apparently, but she can’t deny that she’s head over heels in love with this man.

“That is so?” He presses. “Stupid? Crazy? Too soon?”

“It’s you, Mulder. It’s just so you.”


	9. Home For Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: wrapping paper  
> Sequel to "His Father's Son" and "Tiny"

“Do you have wrapping paper I can wrap myself in?” Mulder jokes as they make their way upstairs. His hand is in hers, but she feels reluctance in him, born out of fear, of not knowing where he fits in. They’ve been here before. 

“You’re the best gift, Mulder. With or without wrapping paper. Just come inside. Come home.” His nod is tentative and he doesn’t let go of her hand. Warm air covers them as they enter the apartment. Mulder takes in the sights, his eyes travelling over the Christmas decorations as if he’s never seen them before. She’s done it the same way she’s always done them. The Christmas tree with its warm lights looks like an exact replica of the year before. Mulder watches it in silence, lost somewhere Scully can’t reach him. She touches his arm and she’s glad he doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t react at all. In the back of the apartment a door squeaks. William. 

“Mommy?” He is rubbing his eyes tiredly, barely awake. 

“William, why are you awake?” Scully takes a step towards her son and stops when his eyes land on Mulder. He pauses, and Scully is certain she stops breathing for a moment, before his little legs sprint ahead. There is no patience in him, his father’s son, and she doesn’t know how he decides, if at all, but once he’s close enough, William just jumps. Scully can do nothing but watch as Mulder catches his son mid-air and then topples over and lands on the floor with a loud thud, a breathless groan and then a laugh. William is safe in his arms, giggles, and clings to his father, curls around him. 

“I knew you would come home, daddy,” William breathes against Mulder and sounds so much older than his four years. “I told mommy. I knew it.” Mulder’s eyes find hers. There’s a lifetime of apologies reflected in them. 

“You gonna stay now.” William doesn’t loosen his grip on Mulder. His knuckles turn white he’s holding on to his father’s neck so tightly. His nails dig into the skin there and Scully knows it must hurt. But Mulder doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push his son away. He strokes the boy’s back like he did when he was a colicky baby, whispers words she doesn’t understand but calm William down.

“I’m going to stay, Will. I’m never going to leave you or your mom alone again.” Mulder is still looking at her. He wants her to believe, he always does. He needs her to. Scully will give him - them – this, Christmas. They will have to talk, eventually. Soon. She smiles at him, feels like it’s her first real smile in forever. Talking can wait.

“I told you, mommy. I did. Daddy came home,” William says as he joins them on the couch. She puts her hand on the boy’s back, right next to Mulder’s, and nods. 

“You did, baby.”

“Hey, it’s after midnight,” Mulder says, “it’s Christmas.”

“Best Christmas ever!” William exclaims and cuddles closer to Mulder who kisses his son’s hair. 

“Time to go back to bed, William,” Scully says in a gentle voice. From the looks of it she is not sure William will let go of his father anytime soon. She can’t blame him.

“No.” Just like she thought. He hides his face in Mulder’s neck and sighs. His eyes are small, he is exhausted. Mulder throws her a look and it doesn’t matter how long he’s been gone; she still knows what he’s thinking, can read his face like her most treasured childhood book. 

“Come on, William. You can sleep with us tonight,” Mulder says and when William nods against him, he gets up and carries him into the bedroom. William’s limbs are limp; all fight is gone from his small body. Mulder gently lays him down in the middle of the bed, stands there and just watches the boy’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Mulder tells her, feeling her presence, because he doesn’t take his eyes off their son, “he’s asleep.”

“I want you here, Mulder. I do,” Scully assures him and takes his hand. She helps him undress and he lets her. Her hands trail his naked chest, search for new scars and blemishes. His skin holds no new stories for her, no secrets. This time they’re only in his eyes and in the way his own fingers tremble as they touch her skin.

“Let’s go to bed,” Scully whispers in a soft kiss against his lips. He sits on his side of the bed for a moment, waits until she’s under the covers. William, fast asleep with his hand under his chin as if he were thinking, instinctively rolls towards her. 

“Mulder,” she murmurs and finally he lies down himself. The sheets rustle, such a familiar sound, and he gets comfortable. Scully is on her side, watching him. He turns to her, his eyes on her, his hand on William’s back. As she looks at his face, so well-known to her, she can’t help but wonder. Where did he sleep these past weeks? Where was he? Did he think of them, miss them, like they did? She reaches over their son and touches his face. His skin is warm, soft. He must have shaved as recently as today. There are so many questions, whys and what if’s swirling in her mind, but she loses herself in his eyes, doesn’t want to question how his being here is possible. For once she’s content with the result; she doesn’t want to ask why, or how.

“Is that my sweater he’s wearing?" 

"He missed you,” is all Scully answers. She won’t tell him about the temper tantrums and the struggles. The pain her simple statement evokes is evident in the way his body stiffens. 

“I forgot to give him the snow globe. I want him to have it. Maybe… maybe that could be something… I don’t have any wrapping paper. I should have thought of that.”

“You don’t need to wrap it, Mulder.” The look he throws her says otherwise. “I have wrapping paper,” she says, puts his mind at ease.

“I’ve been thinking, uhm… that snow globe. It’s a nice idea, isn’t it? A house. Maybe we could… a house. Do you think a house for us sounds good?” She’ll leave it to their son to show Mulder his own snow globe, let them giggle about it, and come up with outlandish ideas and plans. Let them try and talk her into getting a dog; she can’t wait. Her hand finds his on William’s back and she covers is.

“A house sounds lovely, Mulder. Let’s talk about that.” Tomorrow, she thinks, or any of the other many, many days she plans to have with Mulder right here by her side.


	10. Gingerbread Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the revival era: William is trying to figure out life, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: gingerbread

Sometimes she stays, his mother. Tonight, though, she makes this noise; the one that William has come to learn means that she is leaving. His heart breaks, hopes crumble, and he hides his disappointment by biting into a soft, still warm gingerbread man. He looks over to the man he now knows as his father. Mulder. Whatever William’s feelings are, they don’t even come close to the tornado of emotions he sees on the other man’s face. 

“Don’t eat all of them at once,” she tells them both pointing at the gingerbread, “You’ll get sick.” William nods but he thinks maybe she’d stay if he, or Mulder, were to get sick. 

“We won’t,” William promises, “are you coming over again tomorrow?” He chews slowly, watches her, and hopes he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels. 

“Of course,” she answers with a soft smile. William smiles too, shyly almost, still not used to any of this. When he moved in months ago, leaving all he’d ever known in Wyoming, he thought it’d be like this; father, mother and child finally reunited after all this time. Reality, he realized soon, was different. They never talked about it, never defined what they were to each other, these two people who called each other Mulder and Scully. This was their house, now William’s home, but his mother didn’t live here. Not quite. His parents loved each other; a blind man could have seen that much. But they tiptoed around each other, threw each other lingering looks whenever the other one wasn’t looking. William observed them like a science project for school. He felt like he was going to fail that class. 

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Mulder says in a voice that sounds like a sigh. Before she leaves his mother comes over to him, pauses to give him the chance to move away, but he never does. She takes him in her arms and hugs him tightly. William’s eyes close as he returns the hug. He is taller than she is but in her arms he feels like a small child, loved and cherished, needed and wanted. She presses a soft kiss against his cheek and then her arms are gone and he feels cold. He sneaks over to the window when his parents walk outside. They’re standing so close together that in the darkness William is not sure where one begins and the other one ends. He watches them, wonders what they talk about. Mulder presses his hand against the car door. He doesn’t want her to leave either. He never does even if he doesn’t say it. In this house, William has learned, so many things are never said. His mother touches Mulder’s chest, kisses his mouth softly, quickly, and Mulder lets go. He stands there lost in obscurity until the darkness has swallowed the lights from her car whole. 

“Time for bed,” Mulder says when he walks back inside, locking the door.

“I’m not a child, you know,” William reminds him.

“You’re my child, Will. You’ve got school tomorrow.” Mulder takes one of the gingerbread men and bites the head off.

“Don’t eat all of them,” William repeats in what he hopes is a good impression of his mother. He’s still learning. Mulder swallows visibly and William is about to apologize when his father starts laughing. 

“Don’t let her hear that, Will,” Mulder winks at him, ruffles his hair. With a smile on his face, William goes upstairs. He leaves his door open even though he knows that at his age it is silly. He knows it’s no use tonight anyway. Whenever Dana doesn’t stay over, silence reigns over this house. Sometimes Mulder watches TV, a blur of sad, tinny noises that keep William awake. Those nights, when she is not here, Mulder barely sleeps. William knows this because neither does he. He’s come to depend on the low, murmured voices he hears from the living room when she does stay over. Their shared laughter, arguments that he’s come to understand are nothing more than playful banter, and the way their voices contemplate each other has turned into a lullaby. A sleep aid he craves. 

Tonight feels worse. He misses Dana. It’s only been a few months here with them and yet it feels like a lifetime. These people, his parents, are the puzzle piece he never knew he was missing. As he stares at the ceiling, he thinks about the question Dana asked him earlier as they made gingerbread together; a family recipe from the grandmother he’d never know. What do you want for Christmas? Dana asked him as she rolled out the dough. He had no answer. Not then. Now, he thinks, he just wants her to stay here with them, every night and day. That’s his only wish for Christmas this year. Maybe he can be a puzzle piece for them, too. Maybe he can be the missing piece that puts them back together.

He hears Mulder rummaging in the kitchen and gets up himself. He is staring out the window much like William did earlier. It’s as if Mulder thinks Dana will magically reappear if only he stares long enough.

“Hey,” William says in greeting not wanting to startle him. Mulder turns around, surprise visible on his face. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles before he sits down at the kitchen table. The gingerbread recipe is still there; Dana must have forgotten to take it home with her. William’s finger follows the contours of the letters and wonders if this is his mother’s handwriting or his grandmother’s.

“You get that from me,” Mulder sits down himself and William lifts his head to look at him, “I’m not a good sleeper. It’s better these days but…” But not when Dana is not here. William understands. 

“I feel the same.” Mulder throws him a look. “I sleep better when she’s here too." 

"You do need to sleep though, Will. If you fall asleep at school your mot - Dana - will kill me.”

“You can say it, you know. My mother. She is. I think of her as my mother." 

"You do?” William hears the question Mulder doesn’t dare to ask; what does he think of him? Does he see Mulder as his father?

“Sometimes I feel like I remember her from… before. I dreamed about her as a child. I don’t know if - do you think she’d like it if I called her mom?" 

"She’d love that, Will.” Mulder’s voice is heavy with emotion, breaks at the end and he covers it up by clearing his throat.

“What about you?”

“You want to call me mom?” He’s grinning. Dana warned him about Mulder’s particular humor, but William finds himself grinning; he loves it. 

“You know what I mean." 

"Yeah, I do. Will, if you want to call me… I’d be honored. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or think that you have to. You can call me anything. Whatever you want. I’ll love it either way.”

“What if I wanted to call you Fox?” William grins and picks up a gingerbread cookie in the form of the animal. Before today William didn’t even know fox cookie cutters existed. Mulder takes it from him, breaks it in two and hands one half to William. 

“Maybe not that. How about some tea? Your… mom left some here.” William stuffs the gingerbread into his mouth and shakes his head no. 

“Not really a fan of tea. I’ll just try to sleep.” Mulder nods but somehow William doubts his father will do the same. “Goodnight… dad.” The word tastes like cinnamon and ginger, tastes good, he decides.

“Goodnight, son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel: "Making A Home"


	11. Dashing Through The Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Emily” post-ep: Sometimes all you need is a little bit of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: sleigh ride

It had snowed all night.

Scully tries not to trip on the grayish white leftovers that cover the streets as Mulder surges ahead in long, confident strides. It was his idea to have lunch in the city and get some fresh air. In the five years she’s known him, he has never uttered these words. Still, she packed her things and followed him without a question. Mulder wolfed down half a chicken while her salad went mostly untouched. Her appetite had been lost in a hospital on the other side of the country. Was buried right alongside a little girl that never had, and never would, call her mommy. She could tell that Mulder wanted to comment on it, ask. But he swallowed each and every question and for that at least she was thankful.

“Mulder, can you slow down a bit?” He’s clearly never walked in high heels in weather conditions like these. She doubts he’s ever walked in high heels, period. But he doesn’t hear her. Or he doesn’t care. Scully huffs and picks up the pace only to crash into Mulder’s back.

“Scully, look.” Maybe it’s because his voice is full of wonderment that she does follow the direction of his finger. The park across the street looks like a tiny winter wonderland with its snow-touched trees and meadows. That’s not what Mulder means to show her, though. Scully watches as children of all ages sled down a small hill and she’ll blame the cold wind for it, her eyes start watering.

“We need to get back to work, Mulder.” She doesn’t want to see this. As she takes a few steps, her knees wobbly and her feet uncertain, she wonders if Emily had liked snow. If she’d ever even seen it. Played in it. She tries to recall the little girl’s laughter, but her imagination fails her; she had never heard her daughter laugh.

“You just told me to slow down,” Mulder’s voice and matching smile are as warm and comforting as chamomile tea, “I have an idea. Follow me.” He takes her hand, doesn’t wait for her to complain, and drags her with him.

“Mulder, work.”

“Yeah, later.”

“Mulder, I’m not wearing the right shoes for whatever you’ve got planned.” She is ankle-deep in freezing, wet snow. It’s only noon; how is she supposed to sit at her desk the rest of the day with wet feet? Mulder turns to her, looks her up and down as if he were appraising her, then he puts his arms around her waist and tries to lift her up.

“What the hell are you doing?” She shrieks loudly and he lets go for the moment.

“I don’t have any spare shoes on me, Scully. I’d give you mine but I’m thinking they won’t fit.” He has the audacity to grin.

“What are we even doing here? Mulder, there is work to do back at the office.” He nods, but takes her hand again to lead her over her over to the hill where the children are having fun in the snow. 

“When was the last time you went sledding, Scully?”

“I don’t know, Mulder. When I was a child, I guess.” Her eyes land on a small girl who can’t be more than four or five years old. She’s all bundled up in pink and purple colors sitting on her sleigh and grinning at her father who drags her around the snow making all kinds of silly noises. She can’t look away.

“That’s what I thought. Come on, Scully.” But she is frozen in place, her eyes unable to move on from the scene in front of her. She barely notices Mulder’s absence or how the cold creeps into her bones.

“Scully?” Mulder touches her arms and she shivers.

“Huh?”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers with a sad smile that she returns with a gentle shake of her head, “You’re going to love this.”

“Love what?” She watches as Mulder whips out his badge and shows it to a young boy. The child’s eyes grow wide and he reaches out to touch it.

“You can hold on to it for me if you lend me your sled.” The boy considers the offer as his eyes longingly stare at the badge. Scully has to suppress a chuckle. She knows she should stop this; it’s wrong on so many levels, but she just watches. The boy nods and snatches the badge away. More children flock around him and Scully is not sure Mulder will ever see his badge again. She’s used to him losing his cell phone, even his gun every once in a while. She wonders what he’ll do if he manages to lose his badge.

“Hop on, Scully.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Hey, this sled wasn’t cheap. Hop on, Scully.”

“Mulder, I’m not sledding down a hill!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” He sits down on the sled. It reminds Scully of the ones from her childhood; sturdy wood, indestructible. That does not mean she wants to sit on it and speed down a hill. She is not dressed for the occasion. They’re too old, she thinks; unlike the sled they’re not indestructible. But Mulder grins and he doesn’t look old at all. Crazy, though. He does look crazy.

“Scully, just one time. What’s the worst that could happen?” His eyes are pleading with her and when that’s not enough to melt her, he puts on a pout. She sighs, her breath a cloud, and rolls her eyes. Then she climbs in behind Mulder. He is lucky she decided to wear pants today. This would not have worked with a skirt.

“Get closer,” Mulder tells her over his shoulder, “and hold on tight.” Scully scoots forward until they’re touching everywhere. She wraps her arms around his chest and finds that she feels quite warm. She leans her cheek against the wool of his coat. He smells good and for a moment she forgets what they’re about to do.

“Ready?” Mulder says, but he doesn’t wait. Before she knows what’s happening, they’re speeding down the hill. She tightens her hold on Mulder, closes her eyes. The wind howls in her ears as the wind slashes her skin.

“Hold on!” Mulder yells and then they come to an abrupt stop, the sled tips over and they fall to the side. Mulder is face down in the snow and Scully crawls over to him, her clothes wet, her skin cold.

“Mulder?” She runs her hand through his hair. His whole body is quivering. She tugs and pushes at him and finally he turns around. He’s not in pain, not at all: the idiot is laughing.

“What was that?” Scully yells, hits his shoulder. Her hand half frozen it hurts her more than it hurts him.

“Fun.” Mulder grins, laughs even more. Scully watches him, feels her lips twitch, her stomach somersault. Then something inside her breaks and she’s laughing with him. Mulder drags her over his body, to keep her away from the snow, or maybe just because. She’s lying on top of him and it should be uncomfortable, it should be awkward. It’s neither.

“Are you all right?” He asks her. This is not about the sleigh ride; she can see it in his eyes. As another child shrieks in the distance, happy and carefree, she understands what he’s tried to do. One day she’ll tell him how thankful she is. Maybe they can talk about Emily, come up with weird ideas about how her daughter would have been. One day when the pain is not as present.

“I will be,” Scully tells him and means it.


	12. Mother Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie Scully knows exactly what to get her daughter for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: secret Santa

Maggie Scully has always known what her children want for Christmas. Even when they didn’t know it themselves. Bill and Melissa had always been always loud; their wish lists long and screamed from the top of the stairs. Charlie, no matter how hard he tried, was never like his brother. When he received a book on sailboats one Christmas, a wish he hadn’t dared to put on his list in fear of mockery from Big Bill, his eyes lit up and he disappeared to a corner for the rest of the day. Then there was Dana. Her youngest daughter never needed much. She earned the money for the things she wanted, even as a young girl. As an adult that of course hadn’t changed. Maggie watched her daughter with curious interest whenever she saw her. Her little tomboy all grown up hiding in beige, expensive sweaters. Those weren’t the things Dana needed. The first Christmas after Ahab’s death, a hard, harsh winter, all her daughter had needed was a shoulder to lean on, to cry on. Maggie had gladly provided just that. When one Fox Mulder called late in the evening her daughter had smiled for the first time that day. That was the moment Maggie Scully knew that one day she’d have the perfect present for her little Dana.

Maggie thinks about that Christmas now, years ago. Her plan is infallible, downright perfect. When she clicks on the visitor badge for the FBI, she feels a bit silly. She’s never been to her daughter’s work place before. She is accompanied to an elevator and told to go to the basement. The basement? She is surprised but nods. People get on and off the elevator but she is all alone when it dings open on the lowest level. With confident steps Maggie Scully walks over to the open door. The man she’s looking for is there, just like she’d planned.

“Knock, knock,” she says and puts on a huge smile. 

“Mrs. Scully?” He is surprised, almost falls out of his chair. He is by her side a moment later as if she were old and fragile, in need of help. “What are you doing here? Did something happen to Dana?” His concern for her baby daughter is what makes her love him so much. His eyes move about rapidly, searching for a clue. She takes his hands in hers and marvels how big they are, how warm. He doesn’t calm down.

“Dana is fine, Fox. I’m here to pick her up.” His eyes grow wide and he tilts his head. She is reminded of a big, fluffy puppy. She should ask Dana if she ever thinks of her partner as a trustworthy canine. 

“She left an hour ago, Mrs. Scully.” She tries to act as surprised as possible. It’s all going to plan.

“We were supposed to meet here,” she sighs and hopes it doesn’t sound too dramatic; she might have dabbled in acting as a teenager, but her talent was limited, “we were supposed to drive to my house together. You see, both her brothers will be there for Christmas this year. We are all so excited! Oh dear, oh dear. You don’t happen to know the bus schedule, do you, Fox?" 

"I can drive you, Mrs. Scully,” he offers like the good man he is. She smiles.

“Don’t be silly, Fox. I can take the bus.” He shakes his head decidedly and grabs his coat off the rack. 

“I’ll take you home, Mrs. Scully. I insist.” She nods, seemingly gives in. Maggie bites her lip to keep herself from grinning. Her plan is going perfectly.

Fox is a great driver and an even better conversationalist. Her daughter is one lucky woman and she is about to get even luckier. Fox grows quiet as he parks his car right behind Dana’s. He observes the car a moment then turns to her. He makes no attempt to unbuckle.

“Here you go, Mrs. Scully. I wish you a merry Christmas.”

“But Fox you have to come in, say hello.” He glances at the front door, nervousness sneaking up on him. Maggie uses the moment to open his seatbelt. 

“I don’t want to intrude, Mrs. Scully.”

“Don’t be silly, Fox. Without you I would not be here now and Dana is probably worried sick already. Bill and Charlie don’t get here until later. I’m sure Dana will be happy to see you.”

“She saw me at work earlier,” he counters. It makes her wonder if there is something going on between her daughter and this man. Something that might threaten her plan. 

“Then she’ll see you again. I won’t accept a no, Fox.” He sighs; the same noise her own sons make when they give in. Fox dutifully trails behind as she unlocks the door. 

“Mom? Is that you?” Dana, dressed casually, walks out from the kitchen and startles to a stop when she sees her partner. “Mulder?”

“Hi,” he says sheepishly and hides behind Maggie. She wonders if she could just push him towards her daughter, steer them under mistletoe and let them find magic. It won’t be that easy, she fears. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Fox was nice enough to drive me home.”

“Why? Where were you?” Her daughter, ever the skeptic. 

“I was in the city. I thought we’d drive out here together.”

“But you said-” Dana begins and Maggie stops her with a raised hand.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it? Fox, what do you say? Will you stay for dinner? You have to." 

Dana and Fox are eerily quiet during dinner and Maggie wishes at least one of her sons were here already. Though she doubts Fox would have set foot in the house in that case. They remind her of teenagers, these two. Her suspicions are confirmed when they throw each other little looks now and then, always quickly looking away when caught.

"Now Fox, what are your plans for Christmas?”

“I’ll watch a movie. Do laundry maybe.” Maggie lowers her fork. She knows from Dana that he isn’t close to his family but it breaks her heart. 

“That is unacceptable. You will have to stay here with us.” The words just tumble out of her mouth and maybe she should have timed them better. Fox chokes on his food, his face turns red and he starts coughing violently. Cutlery clatters as Dana jumps to his rescue. Maggie can do nothing but watch as her daughter strokes his back, pats it gently until he calms down. Dana hands him his glass and he takes a few sips. Maggie doubts she is aware of it, but Dana’s fingers curl around his neck. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Scully,” he rasps and then he looks up at Dana. She smiles at him before she sits down again. 

“That was my fault, Fox. I really do want you to stay here.”

“I really don’t want to intrude on your family time. On Christmas. I should get back to the city now. Dinner was delicious.” He gathers his plate and Dana follows his example. Maggie watches them walk into the kitchen together wondering if they realize that they’re walking so closely together that their shoulders touch. She follows them, picks up mistletoe from the counter where she put it earlier. 

“Your mom wanted me to come in. I would have-”

“Mulder, I am always happy to have you around." 

"I better get going anyway. I’m just going to use the bathroom real quick.” Maggie uses that moment to join her daughter in the kitchen.

“Dana, I know it’s not Christmas just yet, but I think I need to give you your present now.”

“Mistletoe?” Dana takes the green twig from her hands.

“No, silly, Fox.”

“Mulder?” Maggie nods. “You got me Mulder for Christmas? Mom!” She can’t help but giggle.

“Merry Christmas from your secret Santa, dear.” Maggie hugs her daughter and kisses her cheek. She knows the exact moment Fox reappears because Dana gasps. She lets go of her and winks at Fox before she pretends to leave them alone. She is not going to miss this.

She can’t hear them, but she doesn’t have to. Their faces are close together, every word a secret, a conspiracy. They talk too much, Maggie thinks, and as if Dana could hear her thoughts, she lifts the mistletoe over their heads and finally they meet for a first, rather tentative kiss. Maggie watches a moment longer, happy.

Yes, Maggie Scully always knows what to get her children for Christmas.


	13. Making A Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: stocking  
> Sequel to "Gingerbread Family"

The corners of William’s mouth twitch when he hears gravel pop under a car. His parents are home. Mulder calls it their car, his and Dana’s, but William knows: it’s Dana’s and sometimes Mulder is allowed to use it. As he stuffs his Christmas gift for them under his pillow, he wonders if one day he’ll be allowed to drive the SUV himself. They haven’t talked about his driver’s license yet. If he’s honest, he enjoys being driven around by them. He watches the faces of his new friends whenever his parents are with him. What do they think? Do they think this is right? That William is the perfect combination of the two of them and that this, them, is right? He hopes they do.

“Hey kid,” Mulder greets him as they walk inside. William smiles and takes the grocery bags out of Dana’s hands.

“Thank you, honey. How was school?” William pretends not to hear her as he takes the bags into the kitchen. Mulder rummages through one and comes up with an apple that he offers to William.

“To balance out all the gingerbread.”

“You better eat it yourself then,” William says. Dana walks into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her chest. William knows what that means: she expects an answer. He takes the apple out of Mulder’s hand as if holding a healthy piece of food would make him look like a model child.

“School was fine,” he mumbles biting into the fruit. Dana accepts his answer and turns to Mulder. William, knowing he is off the hook for now, hides a smile behind the apple.

“We need fire wood, Mulder.”

“Aw Scully, no.”

“Do you want us to be cold?” Mulder seems to be thinking about it, but William knows his father will do whatever Dana tells him. They stare at each other, debating something without a single word. It unnerves William, scares him. What if Dana leaves again? Doesn’t even stay for dinner? But just like that it’s over. Mulder sighs, nods his head and Dana smiles in victory.

“Remember when you swing that ax, Mulder: hips before hands.” There is a secret smile between them and William feels like he’s watching one of these cheesy, romantic comedies the girls in his class like so much. Except he can’t look away now either. His heart beats faster in expectation. What he’s expecting, though, he can’t quite tell.

“Doesn’t apply to chopping wood,” Mulder mumbles with his head close to Dana’s.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure about that. We should maybe discuss that later. Now get going.” Dana touches his cheek and her hand lingers a moment longer as do her eyes. Mulder throws William a look as if to say watch out, she’s going to make you do chores soon too. William, still reeling from what he’s just witnessed, finds he can’t wait.

“William,” his mother turns to him, “Would you like to help me with something in the living room?” He nods. Dana takes one of the bags and he follows her into the living room. She takes out a stocking and hands it to him. The red, white and green fabric is soft. So soft in fact that he considers rubbing it against his face. His fingers find the gold lettering that says William.

“This is for me?” He asks, wonderment in his voice, surprise in his eyes. Dana nods.

“I had them custom-made.”

“Them?” Dana reaches back into the bag and takes out two more. One reads Dana, the other Mulder.

“Do you think we should put them up?” William has known her long enough now, hears the slight tremor in her voice. She’s scared that he hates this. He puts on his biggest grin and hopes that it conveys even a fraction of what he’s really feeling. He takes all three over to the fireplace. He’s never had a stocking with his name on it and he wants to keep touching it. But he wants to see it up there, too. See what it looks like. His own goes up first, then Mulder’s. He stares at Dana’s for a moment; a moment too long.

“Is something wrong?” She joins him there and stands next to him, not quite touching him.

“Do I put yours up too? Or do you want to…” He trails off, touches each soft letter of her name. She belongs here with them. “You asked me yesterday what I want for Christmas.” William sees her nod next to him, but he doesn’t dare look at her face. He hasn’t felt this small, this vulnerable in ages. Like a small child. Her child. He wishes he was still little enough to crawl into his mother’s lap, have her soothe him, feel her strength. But he’s too old. Too much time has passed.

“This is what I want. You, me and Mulder here in our home. As a real family. I’m not sure I’m allowed to ask for it. I don’t know if… I don’t want you to feel like, but… that’s all I want.” William puts her stocking up next to his. He’s in the middle, between his parents. It feels just right.

“William.” Her voice is a whisper, an answered prayer. He recognizes the way she says his name deep in his heart. It’s not a memory, not quite. Just a shadow of one, a feeling, a longing. 

“Can I hug you?” William asks turning to her, his bottom lip trembling, his voice that of a small boy. Dana never hugs him without waiting for his approval first, even if she never asks with her words. Now she doesn’t use any either and just grabs his arms and holds him tight. William’s eyes drift close. It wasn’t a lie, or a ploy; this is all he wants. Being held by her like this makes him certain that he remembers. He knows this. The smell of her, the feel of her; her fierce love. This is his mother and even if he didn’t always knew about her, he always knew this feeling, felt it burn in his heart. If he could, he’d turn back the time. Find them sooner. He’s a dreamer, he thinks, holding Dana closer. A dreamer like his father. A realist, too, knowing his thoughts are nothing but ideas. A realist like his mother. 

“Will you stay here tonight, mom?” The word slips out easily; it’s the easiest thing in the world, he realizes. She startles but then her arms tighten around him almost painfully. He hopes she’ll never let go. 

“I’ll stay, William. I’ll stay.”


	14. The Sweetest Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exhausted Mulder and a creative William.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: chocolate

“How is Fox, dear?” They made it almost three hours without her mother asking about Mulder. For a moment Scully pretends to concentrate on parking the car, because she doesn’t want to talk about it. Mulder, or rather his current employment, is a sore topic. 

“He’s fine,” she answers finally and feels her mother’s eyes on her. “He really is, mom. It’s only temporary.” Her mother nods. What else can she do? Scully knows that feeling all too well. When Mulder told her months ago that the FBI asked him – pleaded with him - to help out the BSU on a few cases, she was tentatively optimistic. Mulder had dabbled in writing ever since William’s birth. A few articles here and there and a novel he never manages to finish. Helping out the BSU would be a start, she thought. But of course Mulder was good at it. Really, really good. They asked for his help in August; a few weeks they said. Now in December, close to Christmas, Mulder was working more than ever. Between her work, taking care of William and his job, they barely saw each other. 

“You said that last month. Are you short on money, honey? Is that why he’s working so much? I could-”

“No, mom. We don’t have any money problems.” That’s at least one thing they never have to worry about. Time is the only thing they’re short on lately.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you look exhausted, Dana.” She nods. Of course she feels exhausted; she barely has time to breathe, let alone sleep. “I’d love to take my grandson for a few days if you and Fox need some time to yourself.” Her mother winks at her and Scully blushes. That is something she hasn’t even thought of in weeks. Sex. She barely remembers it. These days she is happy to just share the bed with Mulder. To sleep. 

“Let’s go inside,” she changes the subject quickly, “I’ll speak to Mulder and maybe… it could be a good idea.” They get out of the car and make sure that all the Christmas presents are well hidden in the trunk; Scully feels her lips curl upwards. She can’t wait for William to crawl under the tree and guess at which presents are for him. 

The apartment is bathed in soft, warm orange colors when they enter. Mulder has turned on all the Christmas lights and there’s music playing somewhere, too; old, melancholic tunes promising a white, snowy Christmas. So distracted by the peacefulness, Scully doesn’t notice her son at first. 

“Mommy!” He exclaims and then she sees him. Scully blinks a few times, her mother gasps. 

“William?” The small boy toddles towards her wearing a huge grin and a generous amount of chocolate. His face is covered in it, his hands and some is in his hair. Scully stops him before he throws himself into her arms. 

“What happened, baby? Where is daddy?” Scully wipes away a smidge of chocolate from his cheek, tastes it. Just as sweet as her son looks and smells. William points to the couch and there he is, Mulder. Fast asleep and, Scully can’t help but chuckle, partly covered in chocolate too. 

“Grandma, do I look pretty?” William asks as Scully gently touches Mulder’s shoulder. He sighs and opens his eyes with difficulty.

“Scully, hey,” his voice sounds gravely, his eyes can hardly focus, “you smell like chocolate.”

“That’s you actually.” Scully leans over and kisses his cheek, licks off the chocolate. 

“I made daddy look pretty,” William giggles and drags his grandmother over to the couch to point at his father’s face, “Daddy is pretty,” he repeats and pats Mulder’s cheek. Scully and her mother try not to laugh, but they both fail. Mulder, the joke lost on him, just watches trying to wake up.

“Will, buddy, why are you covered in chocolate?” The boy’s giggles turn into full blown baby laughter. 

“I’m going to clean him up.” Scully mouths a thank you to her mother and watches as she leads him to the bathroom.

“You need to get cleaned up, too,” Scully tells Mulder. His eyes look heavy; he can barely keep them open.

“I don’t even know what happened.”

“I think William found the chocolate.”

“Is it Easter already? Did I sleep that long?” He yawns and Scully smiles. A wave of love washes over her and she takes his face in her hands and kisses him deeply, her tongue coming out to play, to taste. There is the sweetness of the chocolate but mostly it’s him. She’s craved this, she realizes. 

“Hmm, I should let Will cover me in chocolate more often, huh?" 

"You taste good with or without chocolate, Mulder.”

“Hm, if you say so,” he yawns, “I guess I must have fallen asleep. I’m sorry, Scully.”

“You can’t go on like this, Mulder. You’re always taking care of William or working. You need sleep.” She runs her fingers through his hair. There’s more chocolate; if their son does something, he does it thoroughly. 

“I know. I’ll call tomorrow and tell them I’m done. I miss you, Scully.”

“I miss you too, Mulder. My mom offered to take William for a day or two.” Mulder’s eyes light up.

“Do you know what that means?” He asks, a sly grin around his lips.

“Sleep?”

“That, too. After.”

“After what?” But she’s grinning, too, and Mulder doesn’t answer her; instead he puts his lips to much better use.


	15. Building Snowmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All William wants for Christmas are snowmen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: marshmallows

When Scully sits William and Mulder down in the living room to tell them they’re going to celebrate Christmas in San Diego, neither of them is happy. Mulder pouts, William starts crying.

“Don’t wanna,” the boy sobs crawling into his father’s lap. He wipes his runny nose against his sleeve and Mulder just holds him, understand his son’s feelings.

“It’ll be fun, baby,” Scully assures him looking at Mulder for help. But Mulder is still pouting himself. The last few years they’d spent Christmas at her mother’s. Sometimes with Bill and his family, sometimes not. With Tara seven month pregnant there was no way they were flying to Washington this year. But Maggie Scully wanted to spend Christmas with her remaining children and grandchildren; the hope that Charlie would show up ever present. She and Mulder had discussed flying to California briefly and Mulder had moaned, grumbled. In the end he’d told her he’d go with whatever she decided.

“No, no fun. Daddy?” William stares up at his father and Scully holds her breath. There’s conflict on Mulder’s face; spending three days with Bill is not Mulder’s idea of fun. He smoothes William’s hair down to calm the boy and to give himself a few moments to come up with a good argument.

“Remember the last time we were there? We went to the ocean. We can do that again.” William doesn’t look convinced. “The ocean, Will!” Mulder looks at her silently asking her jump in and help.

“Grandma will be there, too,” Scully says joining them on the couch. William wipes the last few tears from his eyes. 

“Really?” Both Mulder and Scully nod. “Okay,” William whispers, putting his head on Mulder’s shoulder. Scully gently strokes his back and shares a long look with Mulder. William, they both know, is not okay.

William’s mood doesn’t change. He is quiet, contemplative. He mopes around the apartment like a teenager and Scully’s heart breaks each time she sees his sad eyes. She’s asked him several times why he doesn’t want to go. His answer is always the same: he just doesn’t want to. The night before their flight out, her mother comes over so they can all leave together in the morning.

“Where’s my grandson?” Maggie asks hugging her daughter.

“Brooding in his room." 

"Isn’t he a bit young to do that?” Her mother smiles; she’s gone through his four times, has seen it all. Mulder walks out of the kitchen, hugs her too, and hands Scully a cup of tea. 

“He is not looking forward to Christmas in California." 

"Why not? I thought he liked it there.”

“He doesn’t say.” Scully tries to control her emotions. William loves Christmas, the whole season. These last few days he’s barely cracked a smile. Short of telling him they’re not leaving, she has no idea what to do. She takes a deep, shaky breath. William chooses that moment to walk out of his room. His eyes light up briefly when he sees his grandmother. He runs over to her and hugs her tightly.

“Hello, William. Are you all packed up for tomorrow?” His bottom lip comes out in a pout and it starts quivering. Scully is about to go over to him, pick him up and promise him they’re going to stay home after all. Mulder’s hand lands on her arm, gently prompting her to give it a moment, give her mother a chance.

“Don’t like San Diego,” William tells his grandmother in a loud whisper.

“Why not?” Maggie asks him and William remains quiet. If only he would tell them, Scully thinks. She feels frustration bubble up inside her. Mulder, as if sensing her turmoil, puts his hand on the small of her back. She relaxes against his touch. 

“You can tell me, William. Your secret is safe with me.” Maggie winks at the boy and he giggles before he turns serious again.

“There is no snow.” His tiny voice breaks on the last word and silent tears stream down his round pink cheeks. The only reason Scully doesn’t run to her son is because of Mulder holding her back. “I want to build a snowman,” William sobs. 

“Oh baby,” Maggie wipes his tears away and pinches his nose. “You’re right there won’t be any snow in San Diego. But what would you say if I told you we could build not one, but many snowmen anyway?” The boy’s eyes grow wide.

“How?” He whispers in awe. 

“When your mom was about your age she was just as sad about not having snow on Christmas. She wanted a snowman, too. So one morning I surprised her with a small snowman made out of marshmallows.”

“I love marshmallows!” William claps his hands.

“We turned it into a San Diego tradition. We never had snow, but Will, we always had snowmen. You know what the best about these snowmen is? They don’t melt and they’re delicious. I thought you could help me make snowmen when we’re in San Diego. What do you say?” William nods so excitedly that his whole body trembles. He turns to Mulder and Scully, who has to keep her tears at bay, and grins revealing his baby teeth. 

“We’re gonna have snowmen at Christmas!” He jumps off the couch and dances around like a big ball of energy. Out of the corner of her eyes Scully sees Mulder scoop up their son and the child screams happily. A smile sneaks up on her face; how she’s missed this. 

“Thank you, mom. You saved his Christmas.” Maggie takes her daughter into her arms and together they watch Mulder twirl William around, singing about marshmallows and snowmen.


	16. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in season 9-ish: sometimes Scully just misses Mulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: angel

In the end she always ends up back in the car. William, his face hot and red, his voice hoarse, lets himself be strapped into his car seat without fuss. This, she thinks bitterly and with a pocket full of guilt, is all he wanted in the first place. She takes off his hat, smoothes down the soft tuft of hair. It’s been getting darker lately; it’s more auburn than red now. Here in the car, in the middle of the night, it looks even darker. As dark as his father’s hair. She checks that his seatbelt is fastened and then she closes the door.

Scully gets in the driver’s seat and her trembling hand inserts the key into the ignition. She rubs her eyes, sighs. In the backseat, William starts babbling; he wants her to start the car, start driving. His impatience is nothing new, but her nerves are bared raw and he’s playing them like a string instrument. She turns on the radio and the car is filled with quiet Christmas music. As soon as the engine comes on, William rejoices. It should make her happy, shouldn’t it? He’s squealing and giggling, kicking his tiny feet and gesticulating with his hands. But Scully feels numb. Her hands on the wheel are cold, grip too tightly. Her eyes burn in exhaustion. 

She can’t do this. It’s been six months and she doesn’t know how to do this; be a mother, an agent and a woman. Scully glances in the rearview mirror. William is relaxed, his eyes concentrated on the passing lights outside. He is like you, Scully thinks. Just like you, Mulder. Lately she’s been doing this; talking to him in her head as if he could hear her wherever he is. Sometimes, when she’s been driving for a while, she thinks she can hear him, too. If he were here, he’d be driving. He’d be telling William a story, making strange noises, trying to make him a believer. Scully’d be here, too, in the passenger seat, listening with a small smile on her face. Like William she’d lean her head against the window, let Mulder’s voice and the gentle rhythm of the car lull her to sleep. It’s a nice dream, but that’s all it is. It bursts before her eyes and she stares straight ahead into the thick darkness, her eyes filling with tears that she blinks away. She can’t do this, it’s as simple as that. Another glance in the rearview mirror; William’s mouth is open, his eyes are closed. It works every time. Logically, Scully knows that it’s just the rocking motion of the car. But it feels like so much more. She’s spent a lifetime in cars; a lifetime on wheels with Mulder. It’s felt like a home sometimes, then a prison. When Monica drove her to Georgia to deliver William, a safe place. Once, years ago, she wanted Mulder to get out of the car. Just to get out, have a life. She realized later, almost too late, that it was a life; their life. 

When she speaks to Mulder in her mind, she tells him everything about William. The way he scrunches his nose when he is thinking hard about something. How her mother had professional pictures made and one sent out to Bill. Her brother, calling her that night, had commented on the boy’s red hair with pride. Then, after a pause, through gritted teeth, told her how the baby looked exactly like Mulder. But she tells him all of it, this imagined, absent Mulder. How she hasn’t been sleeping. How William, sleepless and restless, keeps her awake at night. She tells him about the way she misses him in her life as if she were missing a vital part of herself. She can’t sleep, she can’t think. And now… she is not sure she can go on. 

I need you, Mulder. The thought presses forward, hammers against her temple like a migraine. I cannot do this without you. She hits her palm against the wheel. Does it again, and again, and again. The car swerves and she barely notices. 

“You left us,” she whispers into the darkness, giving her feelings a voice for once. She checks on William and he is fast asleep, breathing deeply. Scully’s eyes burn, exhausting mingling with angry tears, and she presses her knuckles against them until she sees stars.

“It’s Christmas, Mulder," she says to the emptiness. “You said you’d be back before Christmas.” There is no answer, only William’s soft snoring and the overenthusiastic Christmas tunes on the radio. She is quiet, holds her breath and waits. For what? She thinks to herself, the taste of it bitter. Mulder can’t hear her, can’t answer her.

They’re almost home when Scully stops at a red light. Her eyes are heavy; keeping them open is getting more difficult. They move around dizzily until they land on an angel. Not a real angel, no. Christmas decoration, Scully reminds her tired mind. But she can’t take her eyes off the white and blue glowing figure. She is so mesmerized by it that she doesn’t notice the light flickering at first. She stares at it long and hard, her mind counting absent-mindedly. Morse code, she thinks, but it can’t be. Just a flickering light. Just some malfunction and yet… she lets her eyes listen, her desperate mind reach out. Miss you, she reads. Love you, she chokes. Home soon, she cries before the light dies; there is no message, nothing. Just an angel made out of plastic and light, false hope in an endlessly dark night. In the back, William sighs happily. At least I have you, baby boy. She glances at the angel again, waits five long seconds, but the traffic light is faster and jumps to green. Scully drives home, her mind quiet, her heart heavy. She is not sure she can do this, can go on like this. But damn it if she won’t try again tomorrow.


	17. O Holy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie Scully helps William prepare a surprise for his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: carols

The planning has been going on for weeks. His son and his mother-in-law are in cahoots together and Mulder is not sure what to think of it.

“Do you have any idea what Will and your mother are planning for Christmas Eve?” He asks Scully when they’re getting ready for bed. William has been particularly wired up tonight while on the phone with his grandmother.

“No idea,” Scully yawns, “William says it’s a surprise for us.” Her eyes are closing; it’s been a long week at the hospital and Scully needs her sleep. Today was her last day of work before the holidays and they’re leaving tomorrow for her mother’s. Bill and his family will be there, Charlie and the infamous Aunt Olive. A regular Scully Christmas get-together. Mulder would be worried but the only thing he is concerned about is the obvious mischief his seven-year-old son has planned.

“Are you not worried at all?” He nudges Scully and feels guilty, almost anyway, when she sighs so heavily that he swears the bed moves under them.

“Mulder, what kind of trouble can a seven-year-old and his grandmother cause?” That’s exactly what he’s been asking himself for weeks. Scully is asleep a moment later, but Mulder is wide awake. What kind of trouble indeed.

William is the first one awake the next morning. He jumps into their bed, narrowly missing vital body parts, and stares at Mulder. It’s something he’s been doing ever since he was a toddler; just stare at his parents in the morning until one of them opens their eyes. There are worse ways to be woken up, Mulder thinks, as he blinks away the sleep.

“Good morning, Will,” he grunts.

“Daddy, today is Christmas Eve!” The boy is way too enthusiastic for… 7.25 am.

“I know, buddy. Why are you up so early?”

“I just told you,” Will says matter-of-factly and tilts his head, “It’s Christmas Eve!”

“You know that Santa isn’t coming until tonight.”

“Of course I know that.” His boy rolls his eyes; just like his mother. “But…” He puts his hands over his mouth afraid to spill his secret. The secret he, and his grandmother, has kept for at least two weeks. A new record for one William Mulder. He grins at his father and shows off his missing teeth. “Can’t tell you, daddy. It’s a surprise.” William jumps off the bed again and runs through the apartment like an overexcited puppy.

“Did I oversleep?” Scully mumbles into her pillow. Her eyes are still closed. Mulder cuddles closer to her, just for a moment.

“Our son got up early.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Scully opens her eyes, “or is it?” Mulder kisses her nose, can’t help himself.

“Mommy, daddy, you have to get up!” William storms back into the bedroom and to Mulder’s greatest surprise, his son is already dressed.

“Will, baby, it’s still morning,” Scully tells him sitting up in bed.

“But we’re going to grandma’s today.”

“Yes, but your grandma is still asleep.” William looks at her, his skeptical look along with the raised Scully eyebrow already perfected.

“I’ll call her and check!” Before either of them can stop him, he is gone from the bedroom in search of the phone.

“That’s your son,” Scully says to Mulder, but they both can’t help their smiles.

They arrive at Maggie Scully’s house much earlier than planned – thanks to William. The boy sprints out of the car and into his grandmother’s house the minute Mulder has parked.

“You think we can leave him here after Christmas?” Mulder grins and this time it’s Scully who rolls her eyes.

Maggie is happy to see them even though there are still plenty of things to do before the other guests arrive. She gives each of them small tasks and for once William doesn’t complain. Mulder catches his son checking the time every now and then. He hides his grin behind a dish towel; his son has never been patient. Then again, neither has Mulder.

The rest of the family arrives throughout the day and William grows more and more impatient. Bill Scully and Mulder exchange polite handshakes while Charlie Scully engulfs him in a friendly hug. Aunt Olive kisses both Mulder and William and they both wipe their cheeks as soon as the woman turns their back on them. Then, finally, it’s time. They’ve all eaten and are scattered in the living room feeling fat, happy and tired. Except for William.

“Attention, please,” Maggie Scully announces and all heads turn to her. William stands next to her, almost hiding behind her. His ears and his cheeks are a bright red, but there’s a smile on his face, “William has prepared something for all of us tonight.” Mulder feels Scully’s hand reach out and grab his in a tight grip. “Do you want to tell them, William?” He shakes his head no and throws his parents a look. He’s grinning.

“Well, all right. A few weeks ago, we went to a lovely church service. Our William here told me afterwards how much he enjoyed the singing,” William nods at his audience, “and he asked me if I could help him prepare one of the carols he enjoyed so much. What are you singing for us today, honey?”

“O Holy Night,” William says in a small voice. Scully almost crushes Mulder’s hand and he has to stop himself from yelping out in pain. He is not going to destroy William’s big moment. He can hear Scully sniffle and he knows that if he turns to her, even if just for a second, he’ll break out in tears too. Maggie gives William a cue and music starts playing softly in the background. The boy brushes a few strands of hair from his forehead and takes a deep breath – while Mulder holds his. And then he starts singing. Mulder has never heard his son sing. At least not like this. The whole room is in awe as William’s clear, beautiful voice fills the silence. He’s looking at his parents with a huge, proud grin on his face. Mulder doesn’t care that tears stream down his face now and he knows that Scully looks even worse than he does right now. Nothing matters. Only their son and his voice.

“O night when Christ was born,” William swallows and takes another breath to prepare for the big final, “ohhhhh night diviiiiiiine,” his voice breaks there, misses the high point, but Mulder feels a chill run through his blood, is certain he’s never heard anything as beautiful as this “oh night divine.” William finishes and stares at his parents with big eyes and an even bigger smile. While everyone starts clapping, Mulder rushes towards his son, Scully on his heels, and picks him up easily.

“Was it a good surprise? Did you like it?” William, his eyes clearer than the ocean under a blue sky, asks them.

“You were divine, Will,” Scully tells him when Mulder can’t quite find his voice. Divine, indeed. Their son.


	18. Kitty Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mulders gets a kitten and… lose it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: snow boots

William has exactly one wish this Christmas: a cat. They ditched the bullet on his birthday when that had been his only wish too. That night, sitting in bed wearing his new cat pajamas and a disappointed pout, he swore he’d try again on Christmas. True to his word, William handed his parents his Christmas wish list on the first day of December. All it said was ‘kitten’. It was one of the few words he knew how to write at three years old.

“If we had a kitten…” Is William’s favorite game. He comes up with all kinds of arguments; most of which don’t make sense. Just yesterday he told Mulder that if they had a kitten they no longer needed a vacuum cleaner. Because the cat could eat all the crumbs. He didn’t tell Scully about that one. The truth is that sometimes, when both Scully and William are asleep, Mulder checks local pet shelters. All these beautiful animals. He had a cat as a child, a black Bombay named Mr. James, that he and Samantha used to teach tricks to. The cat died of old age a year before Samantha was taken. They talked about getting a new one then, but once his sister was gone and the house no longer a home, the possibility of a cat withered away. Mulder loves cats; he loves dogs, too, unless they’re small, yappy ones. The chances for a sibling are slim for William, though not for lack of trying. The least they can do is give him a pet to play with, he thinks. Tonight, Mulder jots down the address of a shelter and turns off the computer. Scully is curled on her side when he enters their bedroom. He crawls into bed and draws her close. He just can’t help himself. She buries her head in his neck and when she kisses him there, softly, he knows she’s awake.

“We’re getting a cat, aren’t we?” Scully whispers against him, her mouth trailing along his throat. He chuckles; she can read him like a book. 

The next morning is Saturday and Mulder can barely contain his excitement. He had to promise Scully to wait until after breakfast. If he told William beforehand, the boy would refuse to eat. So he waits. And waits. William doesn’t like his eggs scrambled so he takes his time eating them. Mulder bites his lip, glances at Scully. She gently shakes her head and when Mulder sighs she chuckles. It’s torture. When William is chewing the rest of his eggs, pushing his plate away, Mulder’s moment has come.

“Will, buddy, we have a surprise for you.” A small piece of chewed egg falls out of the boy’s mouth.

“Surprise?” He asks, his voice rising to the roof at the end.

“A big one." 

"Or more of a small one,” Scully intervenes. 

“With four legs,” Mulder clarifies with a huge grin.

“A kitten!” William screams. His chair clatters to the ground as he flings his arms about. “A kitten!” He yells right into Mulder’s ear who winces. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” His son’s voice rings in his ears for minutes.

It’s quiet at the shelter save for the noises of the animals. 

“We’re getting one cat, Mulder. One.” Scully warns him; she must have seen the way he looks at all these caged darlings. Mulder falls in love with two cats and even one dog before they’re approached by an employee.

“Hello there,” he greets them warmly, wiping his hand on his pant leg, “Can I help you?”

“Do you have kittens?” William asks him holding on to his mother’s hand. He is a shy child, doesn’t like talking to strangers. He makes an exception when it comes to cats, though. “Baby cats,” he adds still waiting for an answer with an air of impatience about him. 

“We do. Would you like to see them?” As if either Mulder or Scully could say no to their son that each would claim looks just like the other when he desperately wants something. Mulder nods and they’re led into a different, smaller room. Five kittens on uncertain paws with big, round eyes and loud meows watch them. 

“Ohhh.” William is so in awe that he leans against his mother. He’s never seen real kittens before.

“Sit down,” the employee tells them, “so you don’t look so scary to them.” Mulder takes William’s hand and they sit down together. The kittens walk over to them, their interest spiked. A tabby crawls into William’s lap and curls into a little ball. The boy’s hand trembles as he puts it on the soft fur. Mulder watches, feels overcome with emotions, and when he looks up at Scully, he sees she feels the same. 

“Sit down, Scully,” Mulder tells her. There are two kittens circling him now. They’re meowing loudly as if demanding something from him. The last two follow their siblings’ example. Mulder strokes two kittens and they arch their tiny backs. One kitten nudges the other one, desperate to get to Mulder. William, his own kitten still in his lap, laughs. 

“You’re some kind of cat whisperer?” The employee asks but even he chuckles. Scully finally kneels next to him and touches one of the cats. It meows. One of the others climbs Mulder’s sweater, tiny claws digging as deeply as they can. There are four kittens leaning against him, purring at him, climbing on him. He feels like a cat tree.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Scully says in a soft voice.

“Mommy, daddy, I want this one.” William points to the sleeping kitten in his lap. 

“I thought we could get an older one,” Scully starts and Mulder watches the heartbreak on their son’s face. His tiny hand is absent-mindedly stroking the cat’s fur. 

“Scully…” Mulder begins and she nods.

“We’ll take it.” William grins, careful not to jostle the small animal, mindful to be quiet. Mulder knows he’ll take good care of the kitten.

Mulder spends three hours at Petco, buying everything their new kitten might need and more. Way more. They’ll need a bigger place soon just so their cat’s things fit inside.

“Daddy, we have a name!” William informs him the moment he walks through the door, kicking off his snow boots. It’s getting colder; with the new addition to the family, he doubts they’ll spend much time outside, though.

“Oh really? What’s the little tiger called?" 

"You guessed his name, daddy! Mommy, daddy guessed the name!”

“Tiger?” The kitten doesn’t react, is ready to fall asleep again.

“He looks like one,” William explains proudly. Mulder strokes the cat and it purrs happily.

Separating William from Tiger is a struggle. They put the cat bed in their bedroom and tell William he’s allowed to play with Tiger in the morning. Mulder carries the exhausted kitten to its new bed; it’s still a bit too big. He pets it a moment longer until Scully returns. 

“William down for the night?”

“I hope so,” she joins him at the cat bed, smiling down at the baby animal, “He wouldn’t stop talking about Tiger.” Mulder nods, grins. 

“Let’s go to bed. I have a feeling we’ll be woken early tomorrow.”

As it turns out, Mulder is right. What he didn’t expect, couldn’t have predicted, is the blood curdling scream William lets loose, though. His heart beating fast, Mulder sits up in bed. Scully is just as slow in waking up. They share a look then their eyes land on William. He runs over and throws himself at Mulder.

“He is gone!” He cries, his voice high yet hoarse. “Tiger is gone!” Scully gets up and Mulder sees the empty cat bed. 

“Let’s check the rest of the apartment,” Scully says. William clings to Mulder, his crying not ceasing. Spit and tears flow down Mulder’s neck, warm and wet. 

“I can’t find him,” Scully tells him, her eyes worried. 

“He couldn’t have gotten away,” Mulder says, raising his voice; William’s crying is just too loud. Scully puts a hand on William’s back but neither she nor Mulder know what else to do. And then Mulder hears a soft thud. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Scully asks, but Mulder doesn’t answer. He swears he sees movement there at the door where their shoes are lined up neatly. All except one snow boot. Mulder crouches down, his knees protesting with the extra weight of William in his arms, and touches the boot. A small head pops up and meows. 

“Tiger?” William sobs, squirming in Mulder’s arms. Mulder carefully takes the kitten out of the boot and hands him to William. The boy, still crying, kisses the small cat and it meows and purrs as if trying to reassure him.

“First crisis averted,” Mulder tells Scully with a relieved sigh. He knows there’ll be at least a hundred more.


	19. Berries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drugged Mulder at a Scully Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: holly

There are two possibilities.

Either Scully will be late - again - for Christmas Eve with her family or she’ll take Mulder with her. One glance at her partner and the decision is made. There is no way Mulder can, or should, be left alone tonight. Her family, or rather one member of her family, will have to suck it up and accept Mulder’s presence. 

Mulder stares out the window in wonderment. He looks like a little boy seeing snow for the first time in his life. The reality is that Mulder is high. High on painkillers. He’d been fidgeting so much in the ER that they accidentally, or not, gave him a higher dose than strictly necessary. Now Mulder sits there doe-eyed, everything a wonder, everything a surprise.

“Scully, the road looks like it’s paved with silver!” She chuckles, shakes her head. Tomorrow he probably won’t remember a single thing.

“You know Mulder, it really does,” she indulges him. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees him stare at her, grin brightly. Taking him with her, she decides, is the right decision. Bill be damned.

When he opens the door to them, her big brother’s smile falls off his face like a cheap, plastic mask. 

“Hi Bill,” Scully tries to sound as cheerful as she can possibly muster. The smile she slaps on her face is fake, hurts her cheeks. 

“Dana, I’m glad you could make it,” he keeps staring at Mulder, who is slightly swaying as if he were dancing to a music only he can hear, “and Mulder.” Bill’s voice darkens.

“Hi there.” Mulder grins and hold out his hand. His aim is off and he pokes Bill in the chest instead. He giggles and does it again. Before he can do it a third time, Scully takes his hand into hers. 

“He’s not feeling well,” she explains but Bill just narrows his eyes. He blocks the doorway, unwilling to let Mulder inside, until she shoots him a raised eyebrow.

“She’s lying,” Mulder says to Bill, leaning close to him as if confiding a secret, “I’m feeling awesome!” He spits the last word and Bill’s face turns red; redder than her hair. Scully ushers Mulder’s uncooperative body inside.

“Oh look!” Mulder stops and points at the Christmas decorations, the lights. “It’s so beautiful!” He gasps. 

“Is that…” Maggie Scully appears from the kitchen and her smile is genuine when she spots her daughter and then her partner, “Fox! I knew that voice sounded familiar.”

“Mrs. Scully.” Scully can only watch as Mulder engulfs her mother in a tight hug, almost lifting her off the ground. She squeals and then laughs. 

“Is he drunk?” Bill mutters into Scully’s ear.

“No,” Scully tells him and wonders if she’s maybe said it too quickly, “he hurt himself on a case and they gave him too many painkillers." 

"You expect me to believe that?” It does sound stupid, she realizes. Yet, it is the truth. Bill stomps off as Mulder and her mother giggle over something.

“I’m happy you’re here, Fox. There’s always room for one more.” She quickly hugs her daughter and kisses her cheek softly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully. I’m sorry I keep Dana away from her family all the time. I know we-”

“Mulder, it’s enough,” blushing, she tugs at Mulder’s arm, but he just ignores her.

“I know we work too much - I make her work too much. We - I mean Dana - would have been here much sooner. It was my fault. Got hurt.” He points at his shoulder.

“What did you do? Do you need anything?” Her mother eyes Scully, who shakes her head. Mulder could use a shower, but she doesn’t trust him not to slip and fall. What he really should do is lie down. Sleep it off. That would be the best for all of them.

“He’s fine, mom. He just needs rest.”

“Come sit in the living room, Fox. I’ll prepare the guest room for you in a bit. Tara is in there now, taking a nap.”

“Is she all right?” Scully asks following her mother and Mulder into the living room. 

“Tara is fine. She was just exhausted.” As if he were her own son, Maggie Scully sits Mulder down and he grins up at her. If only his face wasn’t so beautiful, Scully thinks, and his grin so winning. Both Scully women smile at this man who is so high on painkillers that he’s most likely walking on clouds. 

“Are you hungry?” Her mother looks back and forth between them. Mulder nods. “I’ll see what I can find. You just sit here and relax, all right, Fox?” He nods like an obedient child. Scully, in desperate need of a conversation with someone who is in their right mind, follows her mother into the kitchen.

“Poor Fox,” her mother says, opening the fridge, “What happened to him?”

“He ran in front of a car." 

"What?!”

“He’s fine, mom. He was running after a suspect. We got him, too.” To her mother, apparently, none of what she just said is ‘fine’. 

“Shouldn’t he be at the hospital?”

“We were. That’s why I’m so late and why I brought him with me. He can’t be by himself tonight.” Her mother nods absent-mindedly preparing a turkey sandwich. Scully’s stomach grumbles. 

“He’s always welcome here, Dana. You know that." 

"What in the hell are you doing?” Bill’s boisterous voice sounds from the living room. Scully is on her feet in an instant. Her brother, hands on his hips as if about to scold his son, glares at Mulder. 

“What happened?” Scully checks Mulder from head to toe, runs her fingers through his hair, scratches his cheek, his chest. There’s a peculiar smell about him. Like… like… she can’t describe it. Somehow it smells… green.

“He was munching on the decoration!” Bill hollers. “This is holly!” He yells at Mulder, who just blinks. “You don’t fucking snack on holly berries!" 

"Bill! Language,” Maggie Scully reminds him and all fight goes out of him. He nods, looks apologetic. 

“Mulder, open your mouth,” Scully says and he does, “Holly berries are toxic,” she explains and her fingers go into his mouth, extract two half chewed berries. There’s no telling how many he’s already swallowed. Another trio to the ER, she sighs inwardly. But when she looks into Mulder’s puppy eyes, she can’t even be angry with him. 

“When he was a baby, Bill did the same." 

"What?” Both Scully siblings say in unison. Their mother nods, a hand on Mulder’s shoulder. 

“He ate a berry or maybe two. Oh, he had the worst case of diarrhea.” She shakes her head in memory. 

“You never told me that,” Bill says, a soft pink blush appearing on his cheeks. 

“I must have forgotten. But Fox will be fine.” Scully looks at her partner. He’s no longer grinning but looks exhausted. He’ll be even more exhausted once the vomiting starts, Scully thinks, and the diarrhea. It’ll be a long, long night.

“I’ll take him to my room,” Bill gasps but everyone ignores him, “if it gets worse we’ll go to the ER, Mulder.” He hangs his head, nods.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he says when she helps him up. “The berries were so pretty. Like your hair. Your hair is so pretty, Scully. The prettiest.” Someone chuckles, someone grunts. Scully bites her lip and just leads Mulder upstairs.

“Who knew I’d ever have anything in common with your brother, eh?” He chuckles, finds himself very funny. Then, halfway up the stairs, he stops and turns serious.

“There is something else we have in common, your brother and I,” Mulder says, “we both love you. Though not in the same way, believe me.” With that he leaves her there, at a loss for words, and keeps walking upstairs.


	20. Hard Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder hurts himself and all they have is candy canes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: candy canes

On the side of an abandoned road, daylight leaving them, Mulder and Scully are in the tight grips of Murphy’s Law. It wasn’t long after they arrived in Boston that Scully was informed that her missing luggage wasn’t lost; it had never even left Washington D.C. Rental car picked up, their supposed case resolved itself as a hoax as they arrived on site. Only to be informed at the airport that there were no flights into Washington D.C. for the next three days. They decided to take the rental car home, time and money lost be damned, and now they’re here. Their car is tipped to the side and Mulder is partly under it while Scully, freezing in her short skirt and blouse, holds her flashlight to provide some extra light. Her eyes are full of concern because Mulder might be good at many, many things. Handy things like changing a tire, these are things he struggles with. Not that he would ever admit it. When Scully proposed that she change the tire, Mulder looked her up and down, shook his head.

“I can do this. No offence, Scully, but you’re not dressed for the occasion," he said rolling up his sleeves.

This could be one of her fantasies (one she would never admit to); Mulder, slightly sweaty, rolled up dress shirt, hair that stubbornly clings to his forehead. He is biting his lip in concentration. Yes, it could be a fantasy. But it’s not. Mulder can swing a gun and his cell phone, but his hands are uncertain how to touch a tire. Scully sighs. She opens her mouth to tell him to move over, let her do it. She doesn’t care about her skirt. If it helps, she’ll take it off even. But before she can utter a single word, the disaster unfolds as if in slow motion. Mulder’s hand slips off the flat tire and in his attempt to catch it, one of his fingers gets caught under it. A crack as if someone has stepped on a twig followed by a yelp then silence. Mulder’s face turns pale; he looks like one of the ghosts he always claims exist.

“Mulder!” The flashlight clatters to the ground and rolls away. Scully takes Mulder’s hand. He is too quiet, white as a sheet. It’s his ring finger. Swollen already, a blue tinge around the knuckles. The angle is all off, the finger bent too far. Scully eyes him, his own eyes refusing to look at the damage.

“How bad is it?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“I don’t have x-ray vision, Mulder.”

“How bad, Scully.”

“It needs to be set.” He nods, takes a deep breath in preparation.

“Mulder, I have nothing here. My first-aid kit was in my bag.” The one that’s somewhere in Washington D.C. now. She never travels without it.

“It hurts,” he admits, his eyes flickering with pain. Scully wishes she could just kiss it better. The thought surprises her and she reminds herself that Mulder’s health is way more important than her inappropriate fantasies.

“I can set it, Mulder, but…”

“It will hurt.” She nods still holding his hand. There’s nothing in her purse. Not even aspirin or ibuprofen. All they have is…

“You bought candy canes, didn’t you?” She asks him. Mulder stares at her as if she’s insane; the same look she gave him earlier when he appeared from the gas station with candy canes and a grin.

“Where are they?” She doesn’t give him time to answer and rummages through his jacket coats. She comes up with a handful of sunflower seeds. Those won’t do. Then she finds them. Four red and white striped candy canes.

“Scully?” Mulder holds out his hand, away from his body as if it didn’t belong to him.

“It’s not ideal,” Scully says as she unwraps two candy canes. The soft smell of sweet, sugary peppermint fills her nostrils. “I want you to put them in your mouth and bite on them.” The expression on Mulder’s face is partly amused, partly unbelieving.

“You’re kidding.”

“Mulder, I need to set your finger. Then we get going and stop at a hospital.” She can tell he wants to protest and Scully uses the moment to stuff the candy canes in his mouth. She mouths a sorry before she takes his hand back into hers.

Her eyes are on his and when he gives her a small nod, she lets her fingers trace over his injured one.

“Three,” Scully counts, eyeing him, “two,” Mulder swallows, closes his eyes, “one.” A whisper, a snap and crack. The end of one candy cane falls from Mulder’s mouth and lands on the road.

“I’m sorry, Mulder.” Scully touches his cheek, her other hand still holding his. He nods and attempts to smile, forgetting the candy cane in his mouth.

“Not too bad,” he grins. “Want to try?” Mulder hooks his finger through the intact candy cane and loops it out of his mouth with a plop. Scully stares at it, then at Mulder, back at the candy cane. She leans forward and licks the stick. Mulder’s eyes grow wide and the other half of his candy cane falls out of his mouth. Scully licks and sucks never taking her eyes off Mulder’s. The peppermint tastes fresh, like Christmas. There’s a hint of something she can’t place; it drives her wild and she wants more. Mulder. It has to be Mulder. Scully doesn’t think about it, will blame every inconvience they’ve endured today, and leans forward to kiss Mulder. He yelps again, but this time not in pain. There’s a hint of peppermint now on her tongue, sliding over her lips. And so much pure Mulder. As she deepens the kiss here on the side of an abandoned road, with a flat tire and Mulder’s broken finger, she thinks maybe not everything has gone wrong today.


	21. Special Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How The Ghost Stole Christmas” post-ep Scully has a special gift for Mulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: holiday special

“Scully…” Mulder stops talking, stops tearing open the present Scully just gave to him. They’re sitting close together on the couch, their thighs touching. Shooting each other, whether it was real or not, evoking a new intimacy. She is quicker than he is; there’s the beginning of something fuzzy, something warm and soft against her fingertips. Her eyes meet his in glowing expectation.

“I just wanted to let you know… if I made you feel like I-” Right now, she doesn’t want to hear it. His apology. Scully can read it in his eyes in black, bold letters. She smiles at him, lets him know it’s all right. She is here now, they both are, and all she wants at this moment in time, in the too early morning hours with the rest of the world just waking up, is his presence. The knowledge that they can share a morsel of happiness.

“Mulder, open your gift,” Scully says, makes sure her voice is full of cheer and glee. No regrets, not now. He nods, lets his fingers slip under the wrapping paper. Mulder, who wears impatience like a tie around his neck, is deliberately slow tonight. She gets the hint, tears the rest of the paper and when she sees what he got her, she chuckles.

“Because your feet are always cold,” he explains as Scully gently strokes the oversized, fuzzy socks. There are little aliens on it, what else, and she loves them.

“I’ll wear them with pride, Mulder. Thank you.” There’s a light flush on his cheeks that suits him, lets him look like a young, excited boy. He grins before he finally finishes with the wrapping paper. Mulder is quiet when he stares at his gift, his fingers tracing the faded picture, the used cover.

“I felt like I had to return the favor of “Superstars of the Superbowl”. I figured this is a must-see special,“ Mulder remains quiet, Scully squeezes the socks still in her hands, "You mentioned it once,” She says wondering if she did something wrong. Her fears are unfounded, she realizes, when Mulder turns to her. It may be the dim light, the exhaustion from the day, or if she’s honest with herself, she knows it’s pure emotion and gratitude.

“Thank you, Scully,” he breathes and smiles softly at her. “I always… I know everyone says it’s crap but… have you ever seen it?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“I can’t blame you. No one ever talks about the Star Wars Holiday Special. It’s that bad.” Mulder chuckles.

“Yet you love it.” Of course he does. Mulder will love everything that’s beaten down, laughed at, by the general public. She smiles at him. How can she not? He nods and then his eyes light up.

“How about we watch it together?” What a wonderful idea, she thinks. Sitting here with Mulder on Christmas morning watching a holiday special, just to be next to each other, in comfortable silence. If only. Her face falls, remembering.

“I need to go to my mom’s,” the light in Mulder’s eyes disappears, they darken in sadness, “I promised.” He nods, understanding.

“How about… you come with me?” He gives her a smile, a sad one; she knows what that means even before he says the words.

“I can’t, Scully. As much as I want to spend Christmas with you - I mean,” he runs his fingers through his hair, blushes again, and she can’t help but look away, smile, “I’m thankful for the invitation. But this is your time with your family. I want you to be with them. Without me tagging along and prompting questions.” Scully wants to protest. She doesn’t care what Bill says, or anyone else. She thinks of his earlier question, of him trying to apologize. Now she knows why she stopped him; she understands.

“Mulder, I wanted to be there tonight. I know I gave you a hard time and what happened, or didn’t happen was…”

“Surreal?” He offers and she nods.

“But I wanted to be there. When you called me, I didn’t think twice, Mulder. I wanted to be out there with you. Hunting ghosts or something.” The Always is implied as they grin at each other, words unnecessary; they would only intrude.

“I could wait,” Mulder says, “Until tomorrow. We could make a da- an appointment- to watch the video together.”

“Make it later tonight, Mulder,” his eyes grow wide, “I’ll be back tonight.”

“I can wait until tonight,” he promises, taking her hand into his as if sealing a deal.

“It’s a date,” Scully whispers, winks at him and just because it’s Christmas, and just because she doesn’t want him to sit here and analyze it all to death, she leans towards him to kiss his cheek, then his mouth. It’s definitely a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequels: "Special Nights" and "Special Moments"


	22. Special Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: mistletoe  
> Sequel to "Special Gifts"

She doesn’t miss him when she greets her mother, or her brother, or her nephew. She doesn’t miss him when little Matthew’s laugh sounds melodic and everyone joins in, laughs with him, excited and happy. She doesn’t miss him when she sits close to her mother, a hot mug in her hand, a soft smile on her face. Her head, still heavy, lands against her mother’s as a feeling of home engulfs her, holds her tightly, lulls her into a sense of comfort. The first time she thinks of Mulder, misses him, is when Tara and Matthew crawl under the tree to retrieve the small, and not so small, parcels. Most are for Matthew and he tears through the wrapping paper, throws shreds of it into the air like confetti. Bill tries to catch it, gathers the what he misses from the floor. Scully giggles into her mother’s shoulder.

“I’m so happy I’m here,” she mumbles into the cotton, thinks the words get lost there in the fabric. Her mother’s arms tighten around her as a smile appears on her face.

“So am I, honey. Did you see Fox before you came here?” There’s no telling whether her voice is quiet because she wants to keep it between them, or if it’s just the mood. Scully can’t keep the blush off her face. That is all the answer her mother needs. “You should have brought him with you.”

“I asked him. He didn’t want to intrude.” The sigh is meant for Mulder, miles away. It makes Scully smile.

The rest of the day passes quietly, yet quickly. Scully enjoys just being around her family, even Bill. Then his attitude changes; there’s an excited nervousness around him. He smiles at her, looks away. He is planning something, has planned something already. Scully suspects the worst.

“I invited a friend over,” Bill says, not even pretending, not even stalling, “I thought maybe you two could talk or something.” Or something. Anger shoots into her cheeks, gives her a certain glow that Bill misinterprets. “I think you’ll like him.” He wanders off without giving her the chance to react. If it weren’t for her mother, Tara and Matthew, she’d leave right now.

The friend, Hank, stands too close to her, talks too much and smells like wine. Bill keeps glancing at them, smiling proudly. Scully just wants to leave. The smile on her face hurts her cheeks and the corners of her mouth twitch in exhaustion. If Mulder were here, she’d sling her arm around his waist in an act that is not them, that would feel strange, but would give Hank the right message. The only reason she doesn’t push Hank away, tell Bill exactly what she’s thinking, is because it’s Christmas. She looks at Hank, thinks of Mulder. Imagines him on his couch, waiting for her. Her smiles transforms, turns real. Hank smiles, too, comes even closer and touches her arm. Scully takes a step back, and another and another.

“Oh look!” Tara exclaims, her voice clear and loud. Scully knows before she sees the mistletoe dangling over their heads. Hank grins, can’t wait, but this is it. Scully shakes her head slightly, hopes that not everyone is watching. For Hank’s sake. Without another word, she walks into the kitchen. There she takes a deep breath, feels free again, relieved.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” her mother walks in, an apologetic look on her face, “He didn’t tell us either.” She hugs her daughter. “I love you, Dana. I can see in your eyes that you want to be with Fox. Go to him, Dana.” Her mother hands her the mistletoe twig Scully just ran away from. “Go kiss the man you lo- you want to kiss.” The smile on her mother’s face cuts through her, makes her eyes water. Love runs through her veins, warming her.

“Thank you,” she whispers hugging her. That’s all she says. More words refuse to come. Bill’s lips are a small line when she says her goodbyes; Scully doesn’t care what he thinks, what he’ll say once she’s gone. She shakes Hank’s hand, wishes him all the best.

Scully smiles all the way over to Mulder’s apartment. It only wavers in the short moments it takes Mulder to come to the door. His face lights up; the most beautiful light she’s ever seen.

“Hi.” It sounds different this time, now. Scully can’t speak. Her hands shaking slightly, she takes the mistletoe twig out of her coat pocket, lifts it over them. Mulder watches her, grins. He doesn’t wait, leans down and kisses her softly. “Come on in,” Mulder breathes and leads her inside with a hand on her back. The TV is on, silently blaring. The Star Wars Christmas special is on the table, waiting.

“Did you have a good time with your family?” She wants to tell him that she missed him. He is her family, too.

“It was nice. But Bill…” She sits down and waits for Mulder to join her. He does, sitting close.

“What did he do?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.” Mulder nods, tries to hide his smile. Scully touches his chin so he looks at her.

“I think we have a date.”

“We do. I must warn you, though. The movie might not be… your kind of movie.”

“I’ll take my chances.” There’s the beginning of a stubble under her fingers. It tickles. She can follow her instincts, her desires, so she kisses him again. Deeper now, longer.

“Hm, if you keep this up we might not see the movie at all.”

“There’s always tomorrow, Mulder.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Mulder. I’m absolutely sure.”


	23. Tastes Like Peppermint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory office Christmas party with peppermint schnapps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: peppermint

Mulder arrives at the office Christmas shinding late. The reason is not work, though he told Scully he had to check a few additional facts. He suspects she knew it was an excuse, and a bad one at that. But she told him not to stay in the basement too long, her eyes on him a bit longer as if there was more she wanted to say. Two hours later and he is ready to maybe try and find out exactly what her eyes were insinuating.

The moment he sets foot into the party, Mulder feels the strong need to walk right back out. There’s a strong alcoholic stench wafting from behind every desk chair. Loud laughter, false grins; Mulder grabs a red cup from a table next to him just to fit in. Before he takes a sip he smells the beverage; a bitter scent, unappealing. The taste is not much better. He holds on to the cup casually as if saying look at me, I’m one of you after all and I’m having fun. No one is paying him much attention; they’re all lost in alcohol-induced, cheesy Christmas fun. What Mulder want, downright needs, is to find Scully. How hard can it be to find a fierce, opininated redhead in a sea full of idiots? Harder than he thought possible. This isn’t her thing either. He is certain of it. She wouldn’t have left, though. Not without telling him. Then he hears her; her laughter. Dana Scully doesn’t laugh often, at least not around him, but when she does it is the most cherished sound. It guides him now through all these people he’s never seen and doesn’t care to get to know. He finds her, finally, in a dim corner of the room leaning against the wall. She’s talking to Skinner and if he didn’t know it any better he’d say they were flirting. He walks over to them in slow, deliberate steps. Shoulders broad, growl on his tongue Mulder approaches the pair.

“Mulder!” Skinner puts his arm around the younger man and draws him near. The pink glow on his cheeks and around his nose tells Mulder his boss has had more than just one drink.

“Dana here told me you’d come. Truth be told,” he leans even closer and Mulder strains his neck to get further away from the sweet, sweaty alcohol smell, “I didn’t believe it. You never come to the office Christmas party. I need to make them obvi- obligi,” he starts giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, “you know what I mean, buddy.” Skinner pats Mulder’s back. All to Scully’s delight, who hides her smile behind a cup.

“I better mingle now,” Skinner leans closer to Scully and Mulder is ready to fight the man, boss or not, if he puts his lips anywhere on her, “Nice chat, Dana. Have a good time. Both of you.” He staggers away, joins another group, his laugh loud.

“So you and Skinner, huh.”

“Me and Skinner what?” Scully wears a soft pink glow, too, though it’s not as pronounced as on Skinner’s face.

“Nothing. I wasn’t- I was looking for you.” Mulder stumbles over his feelings and his words. Scully’s face softens and she smiles at him.

“You found me.” He is wrong, he realizes; Scully is definitely tipsy, if not drunk.

“What are you drinking, Scully?” She doesn’t answer him and hands him the cup instead.

“It’s good,” Scully says, waits for him to try. Just because it’s her he takes a sip.

“It’s minty.”

“Peppermint schnapps.” Scully grins, chuckles. Mulder takes another sip. “Hey, get your own.” She reaches for her cup and Mulder holds it away from her. She pouts at him. The sight makes his heart beat faster, his lips twitch; he’s never seen her pout before and he thinks that she looks cute.

“I think you had enough, Scully.” Mulder takes another, bigger sip and grins at her. The peppermint tastes fresh, tickles his tongue and his throat.

“Give me back my schnapps, Mulder.” He shakes his head, his grin never leaving his face. Another sip and Scully narrows her eyes. She looks ready to jump on him, lock her legs around his waist and wrestle him for the peppermint schnapps.

“No. It’s mine now.”

“Mulder,” she whines, changing her tactic. She touches his chest and starts playing with his tie. Mulder swallows hard. Warmth spreads through him and his arm holding the cup feels too heavy.

“I want more peppermint schnapps.”

“Why don’t you get a new cup?”

“Because it is mine, Mulder. Mine. You can’t have it. I don’t belong to you.” His eyes grow wide. The fun falls away and he lowers his arm, hands her the cup. Scully drinks quickly, eyes him over the brim of her cup.

“I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, I’m sorry, Mulder,” she sighs and offers him the cup again. Their fingers brush as he takes it from her, “it’s not you. It’s just… I wish you’d been here sooner.”

“Why?” He asks looking around. The kitschy decoration, the cheesy music and the way too flirty colleagues - there’s nothing here that screams joy.

“Because!” Scully grabs the cup from him again, drinks the last of the schapps until not a drop is left. Mulder gazes at her in curious wonderment. He wants to tell her how cute she looks; his tongue is not loose enough yet, though. “They went on and on and on,” she moans the last one and rolls her eyes, “about how spooky,” she pokes his chest, “left his missus.” She takes his hand into her and puts it on her chest. Mulder feels warm all over, hot even. Scully presses his hand against her with such force that he can’t tear it away. He hopes no one is watching them.

“I don’t belong to you, Mulder. But what if I… what if I want to belong to you?” Her eyes are so soft, vulnerable. Her mouth is open, her lips glistening. She is a sight to behold, an invitation; the woman he loves, clueless to that particular knowledge he keeps hidden behind jokes and smiles.

“You’re drunk, Scully.” It takes all his strength to whisper these words. “Let’s talk about this when you’re sober.” She shakes her head.

“I’m not drunk. Not much, anyway. I know what I want. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got here. But you took so long and the peppermint schnapps - it’s good, isn’t it? Was a nice distraction. But what I really want…” She licks her lips and Mulder’s mouth is dry; he can’t tear his eyes away from her lips, waiting, beckoning.

“Scully, we’re at the office, we’re-”

“We’re the spookies. They think we’re down in the basement doing nothing but this.” There’s no time to protest. Scully’s lips land on his. She tastes like peppermint, fresh and minty. She tastes like Scully, warm and like everything he’s ever wanted. Mulder hears someone gasp, but he can’t stop. Scully’s tongue comes out to tease, to play. He kisses her back, forgets where they are and who is here. He doesn’t know most of these people anyway.

“Hey, those are my agents!” It’s Skinner’s voice that makes them break apart; Scully’s lips are unwilling to let go. Mulder feels dizzy.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Mulder,” Skinner grins at him, pats his back again like a proud father. Mulder blushes and Scully looks like she might regret their little scene sooner rather than later.

“It wasn’t us, sir,” Mulder mumbles as Scully presses against his side trying to hide, “it was the peppermint schnapps.”


	24. Made With Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and William alone in the kitchen. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: cookies

He’s in the flow. Writing so fast his fingers are flying over the keyboard. The flow and he is in it. Nothing to distract him, nothing to-

“Daddy.” The flow bursts like a bubble. William tugs at Mulder’s pant leg. He turns to his son and his neck protests. How long has he been writing?

“Hey buddy. I thought you were taking a nap?” His son is clutching his stuffed fox (a gift from Bill Jr., of all people) and shakes his head.

“Not sleepy anymore, daddy. Cookies.”

“Cookies?” Scully says Will gets this from him; throwing shreds of thoughts or ideas at someone and expecting them to make the connection themselves. The toddler nods. “I’m not sure we have any cookies, buddy.”

“No, daddy. We make cookies!” William is so excited that he spits at him.

“We? As in you and me?”

“Yes!” Mulder glances at his son. Hair sticking up from rolling around during his nap. Eyes wide, blue curiosity. Scully eyes, Mulder nose. A perfect, beautiful blend. Sometimes Mulder looks at his son, like now, and he can hardly believe it. The boy is a true miracle in every sense of the word.

“I’m not sure that-” But Mulder trails off when disappointment washes over his son’s face. He hasn’t made cookies since he was a child himself. Neither he nor Scully are good at baking or cooking. Without Maggie Scully they might not have had cookies at all this year. William stares long and hard at him.

“I want to surprise mommy,” he adds with a pout. That’s it. William pouts and Mulder knows he will bake cookies today, right now. If it’s the last thing he does.

A recipe is found quickly. They have all the ingredients at home, too, so Mulder and William get to work.

“Tastes good,” the boy exclaims when he sticks his finger into the cookie dough and then into his mouth. Mulder does the same, agrees.

“We need flour, kiddo, and the cookie cutters.” William gets on tiptoes to pick up the bag of flour Mulder put there earlier. “Wait, Will, I’ll help you.” But he’s a moment too late. The boy’s fingers can’t quite grasp the bag and it tips over. The flour floods out of it and covers William head to toe.

“Daddy!” The boy shrieks.

“Hey, it’s just flour,” Mulder takes a dish towel and wipes William’s face clean. He sneezes right into Mulder’s face. “It’s all right, buddy,” he promises when William starts sobbing.

“We can’t make cookies now.”

“Of course we can,” Mulder assures him, “We have more flour. Just let me pick it up next time, all right?” William nods and touches Mulder’s cheek with a floury hand. He giggles.

“What’s so funny flour boy?” Mulder runs his hands through William’s hair to get some of the flour out. “Sorry buddy, but you’ll have to take a bath.”

“Nooo!” He wails.

“Yes.” Before Mulder can pick him up, William, quick as a cat, grabs the tipped over bag of flour and pours the remaining content over his kneeling father. Mulder spits and sputters while William shrieks with laughter.

“Flour daddy!” He says proudly.

“What on earth happened to my kitchen?” In between the flour action Mulder must have missed Scully coming home. He turns to her now; she looks like a vision, albeit an angry one, through his flour veil. He wipes at his eyes and makes it worse.

“Surprise, mommy!” William yells out. “We made cookies!”

“Well, we tried,” Mulder says getting up and flour falls off him like snow, “so far we’ve only made the dough and this mess.” He smiles and Scully shakes her head, but can’t stop her lips from curling upwards.

“Cookies, mommy.” William wants to run towards her but Mulder stops him and picks him up. He wonders what they look like; spooky snowmen in the kitchen.

“You two…” Scully mumbles, but she’s still smiling. “Go take a bath - both of you. When you’re done we’ll all have cookies and hot chocolate.” William clasps his hands together; a definite yes.

“If I didn’t love you so much,” Scully whispers as Mulder and William pass her. She kisses their son’s cheek first, then Mulder’s.

“We love you too,” Mulder says, “even if we messed up your kitchen. We did it with love.”


	25. Special Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: presents  
> Sequel to "Special Gifts" and "Special Nights"

“Tell me about this… Star Wars Christmas special, Mulder.” With great difficulty Scully peels herself away from Mulder. Just enough to be able to look into his eyes. Her body stays close, glued to his. Toasty warmth against her hips, her thighs. Everywhere.

“It’s uhm about,” his eyes are on her face but his hands are roaming; find her hips, bypass her stomach, and wander higher. He stops right under the swell of her breasts and she almost tells him to keep going. “Uhm… about Chew-Chewbacca and the Wookies. Their home planet.” Scully giggles; the ridiculousness of the situation, the conversation. Happiness bubbles up inside of her. Her body trembles and Mulder’s hand slips. They both gasp and share a look.

“There are a few… musical numbers,” Mulder mumbles, his voice deep. Hunger is in his eyes. She waits for him, this time. She raises her eyebrow as if to remind him that she started this. It’s his turn. Mulder, an apt pupil, gets the message. His hand on her breast, he leans forward and kisses her. She hopes she’ll never get used to his taste. Scully gasps into his mouth, invites his tongue in. Their lips move against each other knowingly as if they’ve been doing this for ages and not mere hours.

“It’s bad,” Mulder says against her lips and she moves away, needs air anyway.

“Bad?” She is out of breath, she realizes.

“The special,” Mulder reminds her, “not this. Never this.” He leans in again but this time Scully stops him.

“I want to see it.” His eyes grow wider.

“The movie, Mulder.”

“I knew that,” he says getting up from the couch. The VCR clicks and crackles as Mulder turns to her. “Do you want anything to drink?” He looks nervous, now. Nervous and cute.

“No, I just want you here by my side,” Scully tells him and he grins before he sits back down next to her.

“Life Day,” he says and Scully throws him a questioning look. “I just remembered that’s what they’re celebrating in the movie. Or trying to.”

“Wookie Christmas?”

“Something like that.”

They watch in silence for a while and Scully understands why the special gets little love. She takes Mulder’s hand in hers and is more fascinated by the play of bones, skin and muscles than what’s happening on the screen.

“Should I talk to you in Wookie?”

“Huh?”

“I just asked you how you liked it. You didn’t react. Maybe you’d understand me better if I sounded like Chewbacca?” To Scully’s greatest surprise, and horror, he starts making noises, roars. He doesn’t sound like Chewbacca - at all. A dying squirrel, maybe.

“Rrrrrawr?” Mulder grins.

“Mulder,” Scully laughs.

“Rwrrrrrrwra?” He kisses her fiercly. Scully can’t stop laughing, she can’t. Mulder watches her, just watches. A smile on his face.

“I’m not C3PO, Mulder.” Scully’s laughter ebbs away, the happiness remains. “Tell me in a language I understand.”

“This is my favorite moment, Scully.”

“Then why aren’t you watching?”

“I am. You are my favorite moment. My favorite gift. Just my… favorite.” There’s nothing she can say; he’s her favorite too. She can’t tell him, though, so she decides to show him instead; she kisses him, then. Words not needed for a long, long while.


End file.
